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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26582776">The Blade</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AXEe/pseuds/AXEe'>AXEe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Incredible Tails [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate History, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Japan, Japanese Culture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:26:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>31,175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26582776</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AXEe/pseuds/AXEe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
      <p>Welcome one and all to the second installment of "Incredible Tails" and a sequel to my original work "Astounding Tails".  Please enjoy! :=)</p>
    </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Non-human Female Character--L'ara Rhys/Original Male Character--Brad Jones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Incredible Tails [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929391</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Myths & Legends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Welcome one and all to the second installment of "Incredible Tails" and a sequel to my original work "Astounding Tails".  Please enjoy! :=)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>St. Francis University<br/>
San Francisco, California<br/>
United Commonwealths of North America</strong>
</p><p>St. Francis University was a relatively small university.   Located just a few blocks from Golden Gate Park, the university grounds straddled the boundary between the Richmond District and Sunset District in an area known as the ‘Outside Lands’ in the 19th century, and a stone’s throw from Ocean Beach.  Due to the sand dunes that once covered the area, the university had been heavily damaged during the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, and still bore the scars of that disaster to this day.</p><p>Brad Jones jogged past one of those scars—a large mortared over crack in a waist-high stone wall outside the Astronomy Hall—on his early-morning jog around the campus before he came in for work.    Crossing the Green—St. Francis’ equivalent to a quad—he breezed past some students leaving the Main Hall, absently waving in greeting to the three girls as he passed, completely oblivious to how they tittered and intently watched his rear as he entered the building,</p><p>Slowing for breath, he walked up to the front desk and swiped his ID through the card reader before scribbling his name down on the sign in sheet.</p><p>“Morning, Brad!” old Mrs. Makenna called from the other room, a hand coming out of the half-open doorway to wave at him.</p><p>“Morning!” Brad called back as he grabbed a handful of mints out of the bowl next to the sign in sheet and made his way towards the stairs owing to his long-held distrust of elevators.</p><p>Emerging from the stairwell on the fourth floor amidst a gaggle of students, he turned the corner into a narrower hallway and headed towards a stained glass door.   The stained glass was a series of simple rectangles in reds, blues, and greens, with a large square of frosted glass in the center marked with slightly peeling gold lettering.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <strong>ANCIENT STUDIES<br/>
L’ARA RHYS, PROFESSOR OF CRYPTO-ARCHEOLOGY</strong>
  </p>
</div>Noting at how the L was peeling most of all, he reached out and smoothed his finger along it, scowling as he saw that it stuck only somewhat better than before.  Giving up, he pushed the door open, stepping into the main office.<p>“You’re late” Svetlana ‘Lana’ Markova remarked without looking up from her keyboard.</p><p>“Traffic,” Brad shrugged “plus MUNI was being an ass today”</p><p>Lana finally looked up, frowning at him</p><p>“Don’t you have a car?” she asked.</p><p>“Can’t afford one,” he shrugged “keep trying to save up for it, but something always comes up,” he pointed towards the smaller, private office behind her “she in yet?”</p><p>“She was,” Lana explained “a student wanted to see her while you were out.    I think they’re in the library”</p><p>Brad scowled.</p><p>“I just passed the library” he grumbled…</p><p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>The university library always had people in it.  Whether it was a few students doing a late-night cram session or visitors to the university pursuing the stacks for texts that they couldn’t find at the public library, or members of the faculty doing research of their own, there was always someone in the library.</p><p>L’ara Rhys was of those faculty members.   Standing at an even five foot-seven and covered in yellow fur with black spots and bright blue eyes, she resembled a leopard or, given the subtle pattern of rosettes surrounding each of her spots, a jaguar.  Hunched over a thick, heavy tome, her rounded, tufted ears twitched, swiveling towards the soft sound of approaching footsteps.</p><p>“Hey, Brad” she greeted without looking up.</p><p>“How do you do that?” he sighed as he pulled out the chair next her.</p><p>“Good hearing and good sense of smell,” she replied, absently turning a page of the book “what do you know about Japan?” she asked.</p><p>“Uh, island nation,” Brad began “home to the samurai, Godzilla, and really good food.   Why?”</p><p>In answer, L’ara turned the book towards him.   The image on the page seemed to be a copy of a woodblock print of a samurai.</p><p>“A student came to see me earlier,” she began “her grandfather served in the Imperial Japanese Army during the war, and he thinks he knows where the Honjō Masamune is” she explained.</p><p>“The Honjō Masamune,” Brad repeated “wait, you’re talking about Japan’s Excalibur”</p><p>“The very same,” she grinned “come on,” she stood up “she and her grandpa want to me us off campus and I’m in the mood for sushi” she declared.</p><p>Shaking his head, Brad stood up and followed her…</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The Honjō Masamune is/was a real sword.   It was crafted by master swordsmith Masamune, and was believed to be the best sword in Japan period.   It was passed down from one shogun to another starting with General Honjō Shigenaga (1540-1614).   As the story goes, General Shigenaga gained possession of the sword after a battle in 1561.   The sword struck Shigenaga on the head, splitting his helmet in two but leaving him unharmed.   Taking this as a divine massage he took the sword and held onto it until he was forced to sell it, after which it was changed hands numerous times before finally reaching the Tokugawa family, who held onto it until the Tokugawa Shogunate ended in 1868, and the sword was made a national treasure in 1939.   Because of its connection to the ruling shogunate the sword is often described as 'Japan's Excalibur'.</p><p>Following the American occupation of Japan at the end of World War II, all traditional swords except those in shrines and museums were to be surrendered to U.S. forces, and the Tokugawa family complied, handing over the Honjo Masamune and thirteen other 'prized heirloom' swords to the police in December, 1945.   Upon being surrendered to police in Mejiro (a suburb of Tokyo) the sword was taken by an American solider known as 'Sgt. Coldy Bimore', however there is no record of anyone by that name--or any variations on pronunciation--having ever served in the United States Armed Forces and the sword is still currently missing.</p><p>The two most common theories are that the sword was sold to a collector on the black market, or that a Japanese police officer, recognizing it and its significance, hid it away somewhere.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Wartime Memories</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter TWO! Enjoy! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>Brad always hated riding in L’ara’s car.   The vintage 1969 Porsche 911 that she drove may have worked for her, but for Brad it always felt like he was climbing into a clown car, which was especially ironic seeing as how she was at least three inches taller than him.</p><p>Shifting his knees into a more comfortable position, he went back to looking out the window, trying to spot the restaurant that L’ara had mentioned.</p><p>“So, what’s the story here?” he asked “this student, Jennifer, is she one of yours?”</p><p>“Actually, no,” L’ara answered “she’s in Markel’s class”</p><p>“Markel…Markel…wait,” Brad turned to her “not that middle-aged guy with that horrible toupee? The one with the nineteen year-old girlfriend?”</p><p>“That’s him,” L’ara nodded “so, if you ever have any worries about the age gap between us, just think about that,” she grinned “anyway, Jennifer heard about our…” she trailed off.</p><p>“Escapades?” Brad suggested pointedly.</p><p>L’ara shrugged.</p><p>“That works, I guess.   Anyway, she heard about us finding the Crown of Blood a few months back and decided to try and see if we could find the sword,” she explained “and I missed our spot, shit,” scowling, she shifted into reverse and, with some rather liberal use of the horn, pulled into a spot outside a small, hole-in-the-wall restaurant that one could very probably easily miss if you weren’t looking for it.</p><p>Shutting off the engine, she got out, Brad having to wait a few minutes for the traffic to pause long enough to get out.   Going around the front of the car, he scowled as he saw how narrow the gap between it and car ahead of it was.   Grumbling, he was forced to scoot along the hood of the car to reach the sidewalk.</p><p>“You better not have left butt prints on my hood” L’ara scowled.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah” Brad rolled his eyes as he looped his arm with hers as they walked into the restaurant.   Inside they found a small, but crowded space, almost every table was full.</p><p>“Professor!” a girl’s voice called.   Tapping Brad on the shoulder, L’ara tugged him through the crowd towards a table off to the side by one of a small window.</p><p>“Jennifer Dorsey, Brad Jones” L’ara introduced.</p><p>“Mr. Jones,” the young Human woman shook hands with Brad “my father’s English”</p><p>“Sorry?” Brad asked, shaking his head in confusion.</p><p>“You’re next question was going to be why my last name is ‘Dorsey’ if I’m Japanese,” she explained as he and L’ara sat down.</p><p>Brad wasn’t going to ask that at all, but to be polite he kept his mouth shut and just nodded mutely as an elderly man shuffled up to the table, Jennifer quickly standing up and helping him down into a chair.</p><p>“Oh.   This is my Grandfather, Toshio,” she introduced absently as she spoke quietly to him.   The old man offered a hand, both Brad and L’ara taking the offer as gently as possible.   It was clear that Toshio was a very old, very frail man, stooped with age, his completely grey hair was thinning to the point of being almost completely gone and his hands bore the clear signs of arthritis, the last two fingers on his right hand crooked inwards in what was probably a permanent claw-like pose.</p><p>Despite that there was a clear sense of pride and dignity about him as he picked up his glass of water and took a sip.</p><p>“Grandpa, this is the professor I was telling you about” Jennifer explained to him.</p><p>Turning to L’ara, the old man studied her silently for a long moment, briefly glancing at Brad as he did.   Gently setting his water down, he leaned forwards.</p><p>“1945,” he began in accented-English “after war.   After Tokyo Trials.    Had to surrender all swords to police,” he gave a hard swipe with his hand “<em>all</em>, everything,” he emphasized “a friend at Mejiro Police Station comes to me, tells me that he has something…,” he paused here, clearly searching for the proper words “something <em>wonderful</em>,” there was a sudden light in his eyes, his movements becoming more energized, his voice stronger “Masamune sword,” he breathed, clearly still awed by the events after all this time “my friend, didn’t want to give it up, not to Americans.   Asked me to take it, hide it”</p><p>“Where did you hide it?” L’ara asked.</p><p>Here the light in Toshio’s eyes dimmed and he slumped over in clear defeat.</p><p>“Gave it to another solider,” he explained, shaking his head “lost, never saw it again” he finished.</p><p>“Your friend never told you what he did with the sword?” Brad asked.</p><p>“The other solider he gave the sword to was apparently killed in a car accident a few weeks later,” Jennifer picked up as Toshio pushed himself up with a muted groan of old joints and slowly shuffled on over towards the restrooms.   Now alone with L’ara and Brad, Jennifer sighed “look,” she began “ever since I was little Grampa’s always told stories, and now, at his age…” she trailed off.</p><p>“You’re not sure if he’s telling the truth or confusing fantasy with reality,” L’ara nodded “maybe getting one of his tall tales mixed up with his memories of the war”</p><p>“Yeah,” Jennifer nodded “except,” she reached into her bag, pulling out her phone “a few weeks ago, the Japanese police and the RCMP did a joint raid on a black market collector and found a bunch of swords dating back centuries, including some made by Masamune,” she held out the phone to them “I don’t know,” she admitted “maybe it’s just a crazy coincidence,” she shrugged “but, ever since he saw that story, Grampa’s been obsessed, I think he regrets not taking the sword himself”</p><p>Handing the phone back to her, L’ara frowned.</p><p>“And if the sword isn’t the Honjō?” she asked “what then?”</p><p>“I don’t really care if it is or isn’t,” Jennifer admitted “I just want…” she trailed off.</p><p>“You just want your Grandfather to have some peace of mind” Brad nodded.</p><p>“Yeah,” Jennifer sighed “anyway, I know it’s a lot to ask, but--” she stopped as L’ara held up a hand.</p><p>“We’ll look into it” she promised.</p><p>A look of clear relief crossed Jennifer’s face.</p><p>“Thank you,” she sighed as she began gathering her things “I need to take him home, but if you find out anything…” she held out a scrap of paper with an address and phone number written on it.</p><p>“We’ll keep you in the loop, no worries” L’ara promised.</p><p>Quickly slipping out, a guiding hand on her grandfather’s arm, Jennifer disappeared into the crowd.    Now alone, Brad turned to L’ara.</p><p>“You think he’s telling the truth?” he wondered.</p><p>“Don’t know,” L’ara shrugged “he might just be mixing up the news story and his own memories, or maybe he did see a sword, just not the Honjō,” she shrugged “either way, it sounds like an adventure,” reaching for the menu, she opened it “what do you want? My treat”</p><p>“I thought you didn’t like fish” Brad remarked as he picked up his own menu.</p><p>“I don’t normally,” she admitted “but I love it in sushi, and <em>only</em> in sushi.   Any other way and I either hate it or just don’t like it.   Weird, I know”</p><p>“What were the ‘Tokyo Trials’?” Brad asked.</p><p>“You never heard of them?” L’ara asked.   He shook his head “huh, wow.  Anyway, following the end of the war, Japan was found to have committed a variety of war crimes and sentient rights violations, especially in Manchuria.  So, the rest of the allies convened a series of trials to decide what to do about it.   It’s the reason why Japan doesn’t have a standing army anymore and why the Emperor has no official power”</p><p>Brad frowned.</p><p>“But…I thought that Japan was a part of the Allies,” he began “you know, the ‘Big Four’?”</p><p>“They were,” L’ara nodded “but remember, they also bombed Pearl Harbor before suing for peace and later joining the Allies,” she explained.   She sighed “OK, kid, World War Two politics for beginners 101.    The whole reason for the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor—which, by the way, you’ve got to see one of these days, the <em>Arizona</em> memorial especially—anyway, the reason for the attack was to try force us to end our trade embargo on oil, which the UC only did in response to Japan’s annexation of Manchuria.   After the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, we gave in, lifted the embargo, and they joined the Allies after the Republic of China joined the Axis.   And, to answer your <em>next</em> question, China joined the Axis because Hitler and Mussolini were staunch anti-communists.   At least on paper anyway”</p><p>“OK,” Brad nodded slowly “now I'm confused.   I know that after the attack on Pearl Harbor, thousands of Japanese-Americans were forced into internment camps, even after Japan joined the allies.   But how do the sentient rights violations fit in?”</p><p>L’ara sighed heavily</p><p>“During their occupation of Manchuria, the Japanese did human experimentation on prisoners, non-humans too,” she explained “when this came out after the war, the rest of the allies condemned the acts, and Japan went from being our biggest ally in the Pacific to our biggest threat.  Not helping matters was the Bataan Death March’.”</p><p>“What was that?” Brad asked.</p><p>She stared at him.</p><p>“Seriously, what are they teaching you in schools these days?” she exclaimed “in the Philippines, the Imperial Japanese Army ‘ordered’ a group of several thousand American soldiers to relocate out of what they said was their territory.   During the war, the deaths of the American soldiers along the long treak were called ‘friendly fire incidents’, after the war, it was just called ‘war crimes’.”</p><p>“God” Brad exclaimed.</p><p>“Yeah,” she sighed “nobody said war was fun”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In real-life history, the Japanese officially invaded and occupied Manchuria establishing the puppet state of Manchukuo following the Mukden Incident, an event staged by Japanese military personal in 1931 as a terrorist attack against a railway line owned by Japan's South Manchuria Railway, the dynamite explosion was so weak that a train passed right across the tracks minutes later without any problems, but Japan blamed Chinese dissidents on the attack and invaded and occupied the region, installing Puyi, the last emperor of China, as a puppet ruler.   The deception was exposed in 1932, leading to Japan's withdrawal from the League of Nations and its diplomatic isolation.    The invasion as a whole was due, in part, to Japan's increasing industry and militarization in the middle of the Great Depression meant that they were dependent on the US for oil and metal exports, and the natural resource rich Manchuria was seen as a 'lifeline' for the nation.   The invasion also proved how ineffective the League of Nations was, as it couldn't prevent a strong nation from flexing its military muscles, paving the way for Hitler's invasion of Poland and Mussolini's invasion of Abyssinia (modern day Ethiopia).</p><p>Following the Japanese invasion of French Indochina in 1940 (part of which is now Vietnam and Cambodia), the US halted shipments of airplanes, airplane parts, and aviation gasoline to Japan, which Japan took as an unfriendly act, but the US didn't stop shipments of oil, since Washington decided that, given Japan's dependence on US oil, that might be going too far and might provoke Japan into a war.   The attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941 was an attempt to prevent the US from interfering in Japan's ambitions in Southeast Asia, in particular their ambitions on Singapore, Malaya, and Hong Kong, (all British colonies at the time), since the Japanese military command believed (mistakenly) that any attack on British territory in Southeast Asia would draw the US into declaring war on Japan, and so it was believed that a preemptive strike on US forces in the Pacific would be the only way to stop the Americans from joining the war.   Following the Fall of France in 1941, the US stopped all oil exports to Japan, and so Japan set their sights on the oil-rich Dutch East Indies (modern day Indonesia).    Of course, the attack on Pearl Harbor was done without an official declaration of war or warning (Japan declared war on the US later that day, Decemebr 8 Tokyo time) so it was later seen as a war crime during the Tokyo Trials.</p><p>The Tokyo Trials were Japan's version of the Nuremberg Trials, howerver the Tokyo Trials were skewed, each witness was coached beforehand so that their testimony didn't implicate Emperor Hirohito in any of Japan's war crimes in any way, making it seem that he had no knowledge that anything had happened in Japan's occupied territories.   The reason for this was because General MacArthur felt that to completely remove the Emperor would be a crushing blow to Japanese morale, as such in Japan's current constitution the Emperor has no political powers but is described as "the symbol of the State and of the unity of the people".</p><p>The Bataan Death March was the forced relocation of more than 60,000–80,000 American and Filipino POWs on foot over a distance of sixty to sixty-nine miles by Japanese forces, the abuse inflicted on the POWs during the march and outright murder anyone who stopped or refused to go on by Japanese soldiers led to be it declared a war crime.</p><p>As for China, during the war the Nationalist (the Kuomintang) forces (lead by Chang Kai-shek) and Communist forces (lead by Mao Zedong) both agreed to a cease fire in the wake of Japan's occupliation of China (several years earlier, both sides were actually allied in the United Front during a campgain to end warlordism in northern China, but the alliance broke down halfway through, kicking off the Chinese Civil War).   However in L'ara and Brad's world maybe things went differently, perhaps the ceasefire didn't work out, or maybe Chang Kai-shek was far more nationalistic.</p><p>During the war, both the US and Canada forcibly interred their Japanese populations, most of whom were natural-born citizens.   Canada also faced direct attack by German U-boats during the Battle of St. Lawrence, which sank four warships, making it the first attack by a forigen power on Candian soil since the War of 1812.   As a whole, Canada actually <em>benefited</em> from the war in a way, as the actions of Canadian soldiers in the Allied powers helped to strengthen the nation's global presence</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Red Tape</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Double update! Chapter THREE! Enjoy :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>St. Francis University</strong>
</p><p>“OK, thanks, Phil,” L’ara hung up the phone with a tired groan, leaning back in her chair with her hands over her eyes.   Pulling her hands away, she turned to look at Brad as he perched on the edge of her desk “OK,” she sighed “that was one of my old friends in the RCMP.  According to him, the swords that they found during the raid were returned to Japan once their authenticity was confirmed”</p><p>“Makes sense,” Brad nodded, absently shifting position “what happened after that?”</p><p>“He doesn’t know,” L’ara shook her head “but, he thinks that Interpol might have stepped in to escort the swords back home”</p><p>“Interpol, great,” Brad sighed “we could spend days going through their red tape”</p><p>“Yeah,” L’ara agreed.   Scowling, she tugged at her collar “fuck it!” she swore, suddenly beginning to unbutton her blouse “I hate this shirt, I don’t even know why I keep it,” she grumbled as she finally reached the last button, shrugging the shirt off her shoulders and fanning herself with one hand, her plain white bra—which stood out in stark contrast to her yellow fur—now on full display.</p><p>Brad politely averted his eyes, causing her to chuckle.</p><p>“Relax, will ya? It’s not like you haven’t seen the girls before,” she grinned “besides,” she cupped her breasts and lifted them up as if offering them for examination “it’s not like I’m Jayne Mansfield here,” she continued “I’m barely an A-cup”</p><p>Still chuckling at his expense, they both looked up as the door to the office opened, Lana stepping inside.</p><p>“OK, I got those airline tick—<em>holy shit!</em>” she visibly recoiled, throwing a hand up over her face “Christ almighty! Don’t you two ever stop to take a break?!” she demanded.   Still with her arm over her face, she held out two slips of paper “here, your tickets to Tokyo,” she said “leaves tomorrow.  Maybe you can freak out Japan instead of me”</p><p>Awkwardly setting the tickets on the desk, she hurriedly backed out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.</p><p>“You’re going to get us fired one of these days” Brad chuckled, blushing.</p><p>“Nah,” L’ara shook her head “Lana’ll be too embarrassed to tell.   Besides, I’m in the privacy of my own office and she didn’t knock”</p><p>“You’re not alone in this office,” Brad reminded her, absently picking up the tickets “two tickets?” he asked.</p><p>“Yeah,” she nodded “what? You don’t want to come?”</p><p>“No, I didn’t say that,” he objected quickly “just…you know what they say about assuming” he shrugged.</p><p>“Well, you don’t have to come,” she pointed out “if you want to stay home I won’t stop you”</p><p>“Nah,” he shook his head “I’d just spend all that time worrying about you”</p><p>L’ara smirked.</p><p>“That’s sweet of you,” she chuckled as a bell rang out in the hall.   Standing up, L’ara quickly re-buttoned her shirt “time for class, come on”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Janye Mansfield's measurements were reportedly 40-21-35.  She was also quite intelligent, speaking English as well as German, French, and Italian, and claimed an IQ of 163 but admired that most of her fans were more interested in 40-21-35, something which she would complain about in later years</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Departures</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter FOUR! Enjoy! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>L’ara frowned as the dry-erase marker squeaked loudly against the whiteboard, the sound echoing around the large lecture hall (she hated teaching in the lecture hall, it always made her feel small and plus it gave her students plenty of space to goof off in).   Pulling the marker back, she examined the felt tip, saw nothing out of the ordinary, and went back to writing.</p><p>“OK, so, when the team finally got permission from the land owner to dig they found a large stone inscribed with protective sigils.   When one of the workers touched one of the sigils, he burst into flames and later died from severe burns,”</p><p>She turned to face the class.</p><p>“The number one rule of crypto-archaeology is this: don’t touch anything you don’t recognize,” she warned, giving the marker a wag for emphasis “anybody here who has visions of Howard Carter uncovering King Tut’s tomb is <em>dead</em> wrong.   While the curse of King Tut was just a tabloid myth, many real sites are protected by spells and charms which <em>can</em> hurt you and even <em>kill</em> you,”</p><p>She turned back to the desk, holding up a large wooden disk on a cord.</p><p>“This is a copy of your standard protective charm.   <em>Always</em> carry one of these on your person, even off a site,” she emphasized “staple it to your ass if you have to,” she added, earning a chuckle from the class “you think I’m joking, don’t you?” she remarked as the bell rang, signaling the end of class, the assembled students hurriedly gathering their things and all but stampeding for the doors.</p><p>“Everybody remember that Mr. Jones and I will be out of the country for the next week,” L’ara hurriedly called out after them “so, Professor Edson will be subbing.   Do <em>not</em> slack on your assignments while I’m gone; remember this is for at least thirty percent of your grade! That’s thirty percent of your grades, people! That’s <em>thirty</em>!! 3-0!!!”</p><p>As the last student filed out of the room, L’ara turned to Brad.</p><p>“Think that got through to anyone?” she wondered.</p><p>“I don’t know,” he shrugged as he gathered his papers “guess we’ll find out next week”</p><p>“Guess so,” she agreed “c’mon, we’d better at least get started on these grades before we pack for tomorrow,” stuffing the stack of papers in her satchel, she stretched out her back “so, your place or mine?” she chuckled.</p><p>“Yours,” Brad declared as they slipped out into the hall “your couch isn’t as lumpy as mine”</p><p>“Why don’t you just buy a new one?”</p><p>“Do you know how much a couch costs?”</p><p>“Point taken,”</p><p>Exiting the building, they stepped out into the chilly night air, the both of them shivering.    Letting out a hiss of discomfort, L’ara wrapped her arms around herself tightly, her tail coming up to wrap around her waist like some kind of bizarre belt “its freezing!” she hissed.</p><p>“You’ve got fur!” Brad objected “if anyone should be complaining about the cold it should be me!”</p><p>“Wuss” rolling her eyes, she looped her arm with his as they crossed the Green and entered the Main Hall, both quickly signing out.</p><p>“Goodbye you two!” old Mrs. Makenna suddenly called out from another room, her hand reaching out of the doorway to wave at him.</p><p>Both exiting the building and heading for the parking lot, Brad frowned at L’ara.</p><p>“Do you know what Mrs. Makenna looks like?” he asked.</p><p>“I don’t think <em>anyone</em> knows what she looks like,” she chuckled “seriously, I’ve been at this place for close to ten years and I’ve never seen her face”</p><p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>“Goddess, this one can’t <em>spell</em>!!!”</p><p>Grabbing the red pen, L’ara wrote a C minus on the paper, before setting it aside in the rapidly-growing pile of Fs “OK.   Who’s next?”</p><p>“Uh…Tiffany Marks” Brad replied, grabbing the next paper.</p><p>“F”</p><p>“You haven’t even read it yet”</p><p>“Read me the title”</p><p>“Uh…<em>A Study on Patriarchal Leadership and Female Oppression in the Field of Archaeology</em>…I see what you mean”</p><p>“Told you,” L’ara nodded “not only is this <em>not</em> social studies, it’s also not a soapbox for some pseudo-feminist to practice on”</p><p>“Pseudo-feminist?” he asked.</p><p>“Don’t ask” she warned.</p><p>Shrugging, Brad drew the requested F on the top of the page before setting it aside, loudly and widely yawning as he did.</p><p>“OK, that’s enough for now,” L’ara declared “we’ve got a flight to catch tomorrow morning,” she reminded him as she stood up, giving his sleeve a tug as she did “come on”</p><p>“Hmm,” Brad muttered sleepily as she went about turning off the lights “when we get to Tokyo, what’d you say to a nice breakfast?”</p><p>“Let’s try to get to Tokyo first, huh?” L’ara chuckled as she helped her sleepy partner up and towards the bedroom “come on, sleepy-head, let’s go test out my new, very expensive, thousand thread count sheets”</p><p>Entering the bedroom, she gently eased Brad down on to the bed, helping him ease his jeans off.   Setting them aside, she slipped out of her own clothes, tossing her skirt and the much-hated blouse into the hamper along with her bra and panties.   As she slipped into a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt, she paused at the sight of Brad now dozing on her bed.   They’d been dating for a little less than three months or so, but had known each for close to two years now, and seeing him lying there, L’ara couldn’t help the bloom of warmth in her chest.</p><p>She wondered, not for the first time since they’d started dating, about asking him to move in with her, but quickly vetoed that thought.   Yes, they’d known each for close to two years, but they’d only been dating for a few months, they still needed more time to adjust to this new dynamic.</p><p>That being said, she certainly wasn’t going to banish him to the couch tonight.    Gently crawling into the bed besides him, she pulled him close, planting a gentle kiss to his temple before she reached out and turned off the light…</p><p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>“Fuck! Fuckity-fuck!!!”</p><p>Yanking the zipper closed on her duffel bag, L’ara pounded on the bathroom door.</p><p>“Brad! Shave later!” she called “let’s go, go-go-go!”</p><p>The door flew open, a startled-looking Brad emerging.</p><p>“My new secretary—thanks for hiring her by the way—got the times mixed up,” L’ara explained hurriedly “our flight leaves in less than fifteen minutes.   Remind me to fire you both!” not waiting for a reply, she threw the second of the two duffel bags at him, causing him to stumble back “don’t just stand there blinking at me! We got to go! Come on!”</p><p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>San Francisco International Airport</strong>
</p><p>L’ara’s Porsche slid into a parking spot at SFO with a sharp squeal of tires.   Hurriedly climbing out, L’ara locked the car and then ushered Brad along towards the concourse, hurrying him along towards the international departures gate.</p><p>Panting harshly she all-but collapsed against the ticket counter, thrusting their boarding passes forwards.    The clerk, a young Human man, took them and then examined the computer, wincing suddenly.</p><p>“I’m sorry, folks, looks like your flight just left” he apologized.</p><p>“Is there anything else?” L’ara asked “seriously, we’re not picky”</p><p>“Uh…,” the clerk turned back to his terminal “ah, there is another flight that leaves in a few minutes, but it’s not going to Tokyo.   You’d have to transfer to another plane at Honolulu”</p><p>“Buddy, at this point we’ll take a freaking biplane” L’ara grinned…</p><p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>One TSA checkpoint later and the pair were seated in coach on a plane bound for Hawai’i</p><p>“OK,” L’ara scrutinized the pamphlet in her hand “according to this, once we reach Hawai’i, we have a two hour layover before the flight to Tokyo leaves”</p><p>“Two hours in an island paradise, that’s not too bad” Brad noted.</p><p>“No, it isn’t,” L’ara chuckled “haven’t been to Hawai’i in years,” she shifted her seat back “if memory serves, there’s a nice little deli near the airport.   We can hang out there until our flight is ready”</p><p>“Cool” Brad grinned.</p><p>“Cool,” she nodded, just as the person sitting in front of her leaned their seat back, effectively pinning her place.   Scowling, her ground her teeth together “I hate flying”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The famous 'curse of King Tut' was in fact nothing more than myth created by competing newspapers after the tomb was discovered.  Although ancient Egyptian tombs <em>do</em> have protective spells written on the walls and the sarcophagus they're more of the 'may he who disturbs this tomb be eaten by a crocodile' variety, and not of the 'open this tomb and die five seconds later' variety.   In fact all of the deaths attributed to the curse have very rational explanations, Lord Carnarvon, who sponsored Howard Carter's expedition, died of pneumonia caused by a streptococcal infection, and the Earl had been left weak and frail due a car accident, Carter's dog--who supposedly howled and then died on the same night that the tomb was opened--was very old, and Carter himself died at the age of 64 from Hodgkin's Disease in his home.   The last person on the expedition to die was Lady Evelyn Herbert, Lord Carnarvon's daughter, who was among the first people to enter the tomb after its discovery in November 1922, and who lived for a further fifty-seven years, dying in 1980</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Aloha and Aloha</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter FIVE! Enjoy folks! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Honolulu International Airport<br/>
Honolulu, Free Associated State of Hawai’i</strong>
</p><p>The terminal at the Honolulu International Airport was crowded, huddled families and other tourists moved to and fro; seemingly heedless of whatever direction they were going, instead moving as an almost-single-minded clump, their movements not unlike herds of wildebeest roaming the African Savanah or the bison of America.</p><p>Grabbing their bags from the turnstile, L’ara and Brad joined the herd and stepped out into the bright sun of early-afternoon Honolulu.</p><p>“Oh! Geez!” Brad held a hand up to his eyes “that’s bright”</p><p>L’ara, lagging a few feet behind him, also groaned as she stepped out into the sunlight.</p><p>“Ugh!” fumbling with her bag, she pulled out a pair of sunglasses and put them on “that’s better,” she muttered “come on,” she urged, giving Brad’s arm an eager tug.</p><p>Smirking, Brad allowed her to pull him along out of the airport and into a waiting taxi cab, where she gave the driver an address.   Nodding, the cabbie happily chatted with the pair as he merged with the early-afternoon traffic, pulling to a stop in front of a building soon after a rather boring and unremarkable drive.</p><p>Paying him, L’ara tugged Brad out onto the curb, scowling as she was confronted with the sign above the doorway they now stood in front of.</p><p>“Shoot!” she swore, hands on her hips.</p><p>“Did you just say ‘shoot’?” Brad asked.</p><p>“Yeah, why?” she turned to him “I don’t swear in public, kid,” she told him.   Turning back, she gestured towards the storefront “this was the deli I was telling you about” she explained.</p><p>“Which is now a clothing store apparently” Brad noted.</p><p>“Apparently” L’ara sighed.</p><p>“That sucks” Brad noted.</p><p>“Yeah,” L’ara sighed “still, like you said, two hours in an island paradise, can’t go wrong there,” grinning, she looped her arm with his “come on” she invited, tugging him along again, Brad’s eye being briefly drawn to the American flag fluttering in the breeze above them.</p><p>Hawai’i’s status was ‘unique’ to put it mildly.   Once a thriving, independent nation well on its way to full international recognition, the fledgling nation became a protectorate of the then-Commonwealth of America under the Seaward Act of 1867, which—officially, anyway—made America responsible for the military protection of the islands but did not allow them to interfere with the political state of affairs of the islands.   In 1895, however, that all changed when the last monarch, Queen Liliʻuokalani, was overthrown in the 1895 Wilcox Rebellion, which resulted in the creation of the ‘Republic of Hawaii’.</p><p>In 1898, in the midst of the Spanish-American War, the republic was disbanded as the island nation became an unwilling territory of America during the end of the Spanish-American War when the neutral nation was annexed by the Commonwealth of America under the Newlands Resolution.   The annexation was a hotly debated issue, with many arguing that the annexation had been illegal under both American law and international law, arguing that the native Hawaiians had not consented or otherwise agreed to the annexation.    In 1959—sixty-one years after the annexation—the Continental Congress, following the 1954 Democratic Rebellion, created and passed a landmark resolution.</p><p>Known as the ‘Liliʻuokalani Resolution’ after the last monarch and also sometimes referred to as the ‘New Seward Act’ or the ‘Revised Seward Act’, the Resolution granted Hawai’i the right and ability to make and break its own diplomatic relations with other nations independent and without approval from Georgetown, but in exchange, the islands deferred to the UC for defense and military protection, citizens of the islands born after the passage of the Resolution also gained the benefits of dual citizenship, being both Hawaiian and American citizens.</p><p>However, in exchange for this greater independence, Hawaiians lost the possibility of ever gaining the right to vote in the Continental Congress or to elect a Prime Minister, and the Summit Nations General Assembly had been hounding the UC government on and off for the past several decades since the passage of the Resolution to grant the islands their full right to self-determination and independence.</p><p>Brad and L’ara were both largely ignorant of these facts, both only really knowing offhand that Hawaii was neither a fully independent, self-governing sovereign country nor one of the forty-one UC Commonwealths.</p><p>Finding a nice park, L’ara urged them both towards a bench in a shady area, the two of them settling down with a pair of tired groans.</p><p>“Ugh, so hot” Brad groaned.</p><p>“Tell me about it,” L’ara groaned, absently fanning herself with her hand “at least you don’t have fur” she reminded him.</p><p>“Yeah,” he agreed.   Lifting his head, he studied her, taking note of the rosette pattern the fur around each of her spots, the color of the fur around each spot gradually darkening into black as it went in closer to the spot itself “hey, can I ask you something?”</p><p>“You can ‘ask’ anything,” she chuckled “doesn’t mean that you’ll get the answer that you want”</p><p>Playfully rolling his eyes, Brad stuck his tongue out at her.</p><p>“I was just wondering,” he began “but, your fur color…I guess I’m curious if there’s anything associated with it?”</p><p>L’ara frowned.</p><p>“You mean like the ‘dumb blonde stereotype’?” she asked.</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>“Actually, yeah,” she nodded “it’s the same for non-humans.   People with my fur color are often shown as the dumb blonde in the media”</p><p>“I didn’t know that”</p><p>“That’s probably because most media is geared towards Humans,” she shrugged “read some non-human literature sometime and you’ll see what I mean”</p><p>“Any recommendations?”</p><p>“Hmm, probably the <em>‘The Station Master’</em> by Henry Bartlett,” she replied “it’s a drama about a Canine station master at a train station in the end of the 19th century, and the whole story is just how he goes about his job while enduring discrimination from other employees, passengers, the town.   You get the picture”</p><p>“Not a happy ending?” he guessed.</p><p>“Well, that depends on your definition of a ‘happy’ ending,” she chuckled “think about it like this, ever read <em>‘A Raisin in the Sun’</em>?” at his nod, she nodded back “it’s a bit like that, things on a personal level turn out fine for our hero, but it’s not like he manages to solve racism in one fell swoop”</p><p>“Well this got depressing” he noted.</p><p>“You started it”</p><p>“Yeah,” he nodded “guess I did”</p><p>“Come on,” standing up, she held out a hand “let’s go”</p><p>“Go where?” he asked, even as he took the offered hand, their fingers tangling together almost automatically.</p><p>“We’re stuck here for two hours until our flight,” she shrugged “let’s play tourist”</p><p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>Two hours came and went, and during those two hours they did indeed play tourist.   The first stop on their tour was ‘Iolani Palace, merging with a gaggle of tourists to marvel at the grandeur of the royal residence-turned-museum.   Following the tour of the Palace, they had planned on touring the Pearl Harbor Memorial but found that it was closed for renovations.   Instead, they’d found a nice, out of the way shop/deli where L’ara had bought a very big sandwich and a side of <em>ahi poke</em> which they had split between them.</p><p>Then, their stomachs full, they’d found a nice, quiet spot of beach and had strolled barefoot along the sands in comfortable silence.   The peaceful and admittedly romantic moment being broken by the chirping of L’ara’s phone, signaling that their two hours were up and that they needed to catch their flight to Tokyo.</p><p>“Too bad,” Brad remarked as he laced up his sneakers “there’s a part of me that wants to just blow off the search and just spend the rest of our week off here with you”</p><p>“Hey, you’re preaching to the choir here,” L’ara sighed “but, as tempting as that is, we made a promise to Jennifer,” she shook her head “couldn’t do that to her and her grandfather,” she sighed “I’m too nice” she declared in annoyance.</p><p>“Nah,” Brad smirked “you’re just fine as is” he chuckled.</p><p>Ears flattening atop her head in clear embarrassment, L’ara gave him a hard jab in the arm.</p><p>“Come on,” she sighed “let’s get to it”</p><p>Finishing with her own sneakers, she held out her hand and, hand-in-hand, they flagged down another taxi and sped off to the airport…</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The bit about Hawaii's annexation being illegal is true sadly.   Under the Newlands Resolution, the U.S. Congress voted to annex Hawaii by a simple vote following the overthrow of the monarchy by the Committee for Public Safety.  The Committee had fully intended for Hawaii to become the next U.S. state but were blocked by President Grover Cleveland who was a firm anti-imperialist, however he himself was stonewalled by his own party (the Democratic Party ironically).  In fact, Cleveland appointed U.S, Commissoner James H Blount to investigate the annexation, the so-called 'Blount Report' "identified the United States' complicity in the lawless overthrow of the lawful, peaceful government of Hawaii".   It was later contridicted by the Morgan Report, which said that all particpants listed in the Blount Report, with the exception of Queen Liliʻuokalani were 'not guilty'.</p><p>The overthrow of the monarchy was indeed supported by the American government during the last day of the Spanish-American War, whereby U.S. Marines were sent in aid in the overthrow and are aledged to have effectively frightened the Queen and her government into complying by their presence alone.   The fact that many plantaition owners benifited from the lack of tarrifs following the annexation didn't help matters.</p><p>Following the attack on Pearl Harbor, Hawaii--still a territory and not a state--was placed under martial law.   Following the end of the war however, Hawaii actively demanded statehood, primarily due to a desire to elect a represtative to Congress and participate in Presidential elections as well as the fact they were the first US territory to suffer a direct attack from one of the Axis powers.   Hawaii officially became the fiftieth state on August 21 1959.</p><p>In 1993, Congress passed the so-called "Apology Resolution', which "acknowledges that the overthrow of the Kingdom of Hawaii occurred with the active participation of agents and citizens of the United States and further acknowledges that the Native Hawaiian people never directly relinquished to the United States their claims to their inherent sovereignty as a people over their national lands, either through the Kingdom of Hawaii or through a plebiscite or referendum".   To this day the Hawaiian sovereignty movement still maintains that the initial annexation was illegal. </p><p>'Iolani Palace is the former royal residence of the Hawaiian royal family.   It became a museum in 1979 and is on the National Register Historic Places.   It is the only former royal residence on US soil and one of only three places in Hawaii where the Hawaiian flag can be flown without the US flag.</p><p>The term 'Free Associated State' is the Spanish term for Puerto Rico's official designation (English the "Commonwealth of Puerto Rico").   Puerto Rico was also acquired during the Spanish-American War (a bit more legally though) and as an unincorporated territory it is considered the world's oldest colony.   As an unincorporated territory, Puerto Rico is not a state and therefore Puerto Ricans cannot elect representatives to Congress or vote in Presidential elections and in most cases don't pay income taxes, but Puerto Ricans are considered American citizens by birth, and as of 1952, the island has a local consitituion allowing Puerto Ricans to elect a governor.   The constitution however doesn't change its relationship with the US, merely allows Puerto Ricans to create their own government.   Internationally, however, the Puerto Rican people are considered to be a nation with their own national identity, in other words NOT as just Americans</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Time Differences</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter SIX! Enjoy! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>“<em>Brad,</em>”</p><p>Brad grumbled at the voice intruding on his sleep.</p><p>“<em>Br-ad…</em>”</p><p>Great, now the voice was whining.    Groaning, Brad blinked awake, briefly being confronted with the ceiling of the cabin before he turned to see L’ara leaning over him in her own seat.</p><p>“Yeah?” he asked groggily.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she sighed tiredly “but, can we switch seats? I’m feeling claustrophobic here and you’ve got the aisle seat, so…”</p><p>“Yeah.  Yeah.   Sure” tiredly rubbing at his face, Brad stood up and quickly switched seats with her.</p><p>“Sorry,” L’ara muttered as she stretched out her legs “didn’t mean to wake you” she apologized.</p><p>“Hmm, nos’pro’lem” Brad mumbled, already asleep again.</p><p>Smiling fondly at the sight of Brad now back in dream land, L’ara stretched out her legs and tipped her head back to try and get some sleep herself…</p><p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Tokyo, Japan</strong>
</p><p>Exiting the gate, Brad and L’ara approached the customs desk with a mutual slow staggered, zombie-like gait, public decorum had been thrown to the wayside in the wake of a severe lack of sleep.</p><p>“Welcome to Japan,” the claims officer greeted in slightly-accented English, bowing slightly as they both heavily leaned against the edge of the counter “do you have anything to declare?” he asked</p><p>“No” L’ara shook her head.</p><p>Taking their passports, the clerk looked them over.</p><p>“And how long will you be staying here?” he asked.</p><p>“Uh, a week,” L’ara answered, pausing to yawn “maybe two” she added.</p><p>Nodding silently, the clerk quickly stamped each passport before handing them back.</p><p>“Enjoy your stay in Japan” he smiled, giving another slight bow.</p><p>“Thanks” L’ara replied, Brad merely nodding sleepily.   Reaching out, she grabbed hold of Brad’s arm and duffel bag strap and swiftly guided him out of the path of a towering baggage cart as it sped past at warp speed.</p><p>“Thanks,” Brad mumbled.   Pulling a face, he scrubbed at his face “god, what time is it?” he grumbled.</p><p>“Uh,” L’ara glanced at her watch, scowling “shoot, I forgot to reset my watch…,” she trailed off, frowning, suddenly brightening as she pointed at the digital clock on the arrivals and departures board behind them “OK, here.   It says up there that its 7:30 in the evening,” she held out her watch to show Brad its face “but, my watch says 3:30.   We’ve gone ahead sixteen hours.   So, it’s 7:30 Thursday <em>evening</em> here, but back in San Francisco it’s 3:30 Thursday <em>morning</em>”</p><p>“Sixteen <em>hours</em>,” Brad groaned.   He shook his head as he stared off into space, blinking “I finally get that <em>Hitchhiker’s Guide</em> joke” he finally muttered.</p><p>“Yeah,” L’ara chuckled “also, there’s no Daylight Savings Time in Japan either,” she added “they used it during the Allied Occupation after the war, but later abolished it once the Occupation ended,” smiling at his tired groan, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close “come on, relax.   Get some food into you and you’ll be all right”</p><p>Taking his arm again, she led him over towards a vending machine.   Pulling out her wallet, she dug out one of her seldom-used credit cards and then gestured with it.</p><p>Still blinking heavily, Brad perused his options, finding that the machine appeared to dispense hot noodle soup.  Squinting at the brightly colored pictures and accompanying text, he finally tapped his finger on the icon which he hoped was chicken.   Nodding, L’ara swiped her card through the reader, quickly punching in an order for herself.</p><p>The machine lit up with a brilliant flash of multicolored lights and a burst of loud, yet tinny, synth music accompanied by a cheery high-pitched voice speaking in rapid-fire Japanese.</p><p>Now awake—mostly due to the heart palpitations induced by the machine’s impression of a twenty-one gun salute—the pair of them watched, as if hypnotized, as the machine went about its business all the while blaring its synth music and flashing the lights, a transparent front allowing them to watch as a mechanical arm set about selecting a small plastic bowl and then adding a stack of noodles and seasoning powder to it, before moving the cup under a spout where a blast of water filled it, before it moved onto another section in the back.</p><p>To the right of the main panel a video screen suddenly lit up, garishly bright numbers appearing, counting down from forty.  At the count of zero, the bowl slid forwards into a small chamber behind a small door while the machine repeated the process, a second bowl sliding into place behind the first before the entire machine went quiet as suddenly as it had begun.</p><p>Reaching out, L’ara opened the small door and pulled out the first bowl, finding that she was now holding a steaming hot bowl of noodle soup.   Wordlessly, she held out the bowl to Brad and then reached back inside the machine and pulled out the second one, examining it.</p><p>“I’ll be damned,” she finally murmured “the damn thing even gives you chopsticks”</p><p>“Yeah” Brad agreed quietly.   Fumbling with the chopsticks for a second, he succeeded in gathering up some of the thin, spaghetti-like noodles and slurped them down, letting out a happy sound as he did.</p><p>“Good?” L’ara asked as they began walking again.</p><p>“Oh yeah”</p><p>Fumbling with her own set of chopsticks for a moment, L’ara gathered up some of the noodles herself and slurped them down, letting out her own happy sound as she did.  The broth was rich and flavorful despite there being no actual meat or vegetables that she could see, while the noodles were admittedly a little soggy but still held a nice chewy quality, and above all, the soup was <em>warm</em>, warm enough to wake you up from a long transoceanic flight.</p><p>Suddenly remembering that all she’d had to eat since they'd left Hawai’i was a rather small, limp-looking sandwich on the flight over, she beckoned Brad over to a bench, where they both sat down and quickly finished off their respective soups.  Both feeling a bit more awake, they smirked at each other over the rims of the bowls before they both ‘clinked’ them together like wine glasses and then slurped down the broth.</p><p>Letting out a pair of pleased sighs, they both patted their stomachs approvingly.</p><p>“And it comes from a vending machine” L’ara exclaimed with a slight laugh.</p><p>“I know!” Brad laughed “why don’t we have these at home?” he wondered “just think, at the university alone, one machine like that could make a fortune”</p><p>“Not to mention ensuring that no one ever attended class ever again,” L’ara chuckled, hiccupping slightly.   Groaning, she got and gathering up the two bowls and chopsticks went to throw them out, finding that the nearby trash cans had a small recycling bin just for the wooden chopsticks.   Dumping each item into the appropriate receptacle, she came back over to the bench and offered Brad a hand.</p><p>“Now comes the hard part,” she declared as she pulled him upright “finding a hotel”</p><p>“Didn’t we book one before we left?” Brad asked.</p><p>“We did,” she nodded “but remember that we missed our original flight”</p><p>“Oh.   Right” he scowled.</p><p>“Not to worry,” L’ara grinned “fortunately, you gal pal here always plans ahead”</p><p>“You booked a room on your own, didn’t you?” he guessed, smirking.</p><p>L’ara rolled her shoulders and flicked her tail and ears in a gesture of supposed innocence.</p><p>“Maybe…” she said slowly, grinning at him…</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The Japanese love of vending machines even extends to having entire restaurants which serve food via vending machines much like an automat except these restaurants don't have staff in some cases.</p><p>The bit about Japan not using daylight savings time is true.  During the allied occupation after the war the country did use DST but later abolished it and although there have been some talks about going back to using it it's not serious</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Glitz & Glamour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter SEVEN! Enjoy! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>Stepping out of the confines of the airport L’ara and Brad were confronted with the dizzying, over-stimulating, blinding hive of people and colors that was modern Tokyo’s nightlife.   The most populous metropolitan area in the world lived up to its reputation as L’ara and Brad were suddenly swept up into a virtual raging river of people moving every which way.   A heady mix of Humans and non-humans moved to and fro in every direction it seemed, all somehow without bumping into each other, if anything they were actively avoiding bumping into each other, unlike so many rude passersby that L’ara and Brad both encountered a daily basis back home in San Francisco.</p><p>Adding to the dizzying distraction were the flashing neon lights that seemed to adorn every surface, brightly blaring out advertisements for everything one could want or need (and even a few things that you probably didn’t want nor need).   Even the crosswalks of some of the streets were illuminated (which, admittedly, was practical, but still distracting).   Pulling their luggage tighter to their sides (as well as each other), the pair managed to flag down a taxi after a few tries.</p><p>Leaning into the driver’s side window, L’ara awkwardly gave the cabbie the address of the hotel in halting, broken Japanese.   Thankfully the man didn’t seem to be offended by her butchering of his native tongue.</p><p>“That’s very good” he said in accented, but fluent English, smiling.</p><p>“Oh,” L’ara reared back in surprise “you speak English” she laughed.</p><p>“Yes, a little” he nodded as she and Brad stowed their luggage in the trunk before climbing into the taxi.    Over the course of the fifteen minute drive, their driver—who’s name they learned was Hakaru—coached them both through the pronunciation of various words and phrases and taught them a few phrases and words that could help getting around.</p><p>Pulling to a stop outside a high-rise building, Hakaru handed L’ara a slim white business card with assurances that if she ever needed a cab during their stay to call.   Thanking him, she tucked the card away in her pocket as the cab puttered off down the road.</p><p>“Looks like I made a new friend” she noted.</p><p>“For you maybe” Brad remarked.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Come on, didn’t you see the way he was looking at you?” he asked.</p><p>“Oh, you’re just being jealous” she dismissed.</p><p>“Am I?” he challenged.</p><p>She frowned, turning back the ride over in her mind.</p><p>“No!” she shook her head in clear disbelief “no! Can’t be!”</p><p>“Oh! You’re hopeless!” Brad laughed.</p><p>L’ara merely stuck her tongue out at him.   Gathering their luggage (which consisted of two duffel bags and a backpack each and L’ara’s satchel) they entered the building, finding a neat and tidy modest lobby, where they quickly checked in and were given a pair of room keys and directed to the elevator.</p><p>“Man, they’re efficient here!” Brad exclaimed as they boarded the elevator.</p><p>“It’s Japan, Brad,” L’ara shrugged “they’re worse than the Germans when it comes to strong work ethics” stepping off the elevator they headed down the hall, both stopping at a shout from behind them.</p><p>“Henry! Henry! Stop!”</p><p>Turning, they watched as a teenage girl—about thirteen or so—frantically ran down the hall towards them as she chased a small Jack Russell terrier.   The dog—presumably the aforementioned ‘Henry’—let out a squeaky-sounding, not-at-all-intimidating growl as it suddenly launched itself at L’ara’s sneakers, growling as it triumphantly ‘caught’ her shoelaces, gripping them in his mouth and vigorously shaking his head back and forth in what was clearly an attempt to ‘kill’ the sneaker.</p><p>L’ara didn’t even blink, calmly putting her hands on her hips and peering down at the dog.</p><p>“Can I help you with something?” she asked.</p><p>“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” by this time the girl had reached them, panting harshly and clearly out of breath.</p><p>“No worries,” L’ara assured her “I like dogs,” she reached down and, with a few head scratches, got Henry to release her shoes.   Scooping him up, she cuddled him close “aw, you’re just a puppy, aren’t you?” she chuckled “who’s just a puppy? Who’s just a puppy? You are, yes you are!” she cooed, tickling his ears, before calmly handing him back to the girl.</p><p>“There we go, no harm done” she declared.</p><p>“Thank you,” the girl breathed “ma’am,” she added quickly “again, I’m so sorry.   He got tangled in his leash and when I went to untangle him, he just took off and—” she stopped as L’ara held up a hand.</p><p>“Really, it’s no problem,” she assured her.   She reached out, giving Henry another ear scratch “better get this little guy to bed” she advised.</p><p>“Right,” the girl nodded “I’m Miranda, by the way,” she added, offering a hand “Randy to my friends”</p><p>“L’ara,” L’ara introduced herself “oh, and this is Brad”</p><p>“Hello” Brad shook hands with Randy as well.</p><p>“Randy?” a man’s voice called.</p><p>“Oh, that’s my Dad,” Randy said, already moving back down the hall “again, so sorry” she called out over her shoulders as she hurried back, little Henry now held securely in her arms.</p><p>“Sorry,” L’ara apologized to Brad once Randy had disappeared out of sight “didn’t mean to forget you, was just too enamored with Henry” she explained.</p><p>“No, no, no, its fine,” Brad dismissed evenly “I was too, I kind of forgot he had an owner until she shook my hand” he chuckled.</p><p>“You had dogs growing up?” she asked as they found their room and unlocked the door.</p><p>“Are you kidding?” Brad laughed “my Gramps had a veritable <em>pack</em>! Everything from those little teacup poodles to a St. Bernard!”</p><p>“Huh, you too?” L;’ara chuckled “thought it was just me who had the zoo growing up”</p><p>“Nope,”</p><p>Turning on the light revealed a modest, but neat and tidy hotel room with a distinctly Western feel to it, which had the usual amenities of a dresser, TV, a door which (presumably) led a bathroom, and—of utmost importance to the two weary travelers—a bed.</p><p>“Oh thank you, God,” Brad groaned “a bed” dropping his bags to the floor; he flopped facedown onto the mattress, letting out a long, drawn-out groan of relief.   Dropping her own bags, L’ara did the same.</p><p>“Oh yeah!” she groaned as she rolled onto her back “yeah, this is heaven and nirvana rolled into one right here” reluctantly sitting up, she drew one leg in and undid her sneakers, tossing both them and the socks on the floor, wiggling her toes as Brad did the same.</p><p>“Weird,” Brad murmured suddenly, looking at their bare feet.</p><p>Looking down, L’ara smirked at the differences between them.   In addition to also having fur on them (just like the rest of her), her feet—like all non-humans—had a slightly different structure than a Human’s.  While both Humans and non-humans shared the same basic foot shape, the foot of a non-human was more ‘paw’-like in appearance; with all five toes being roughly the same size as each other (at least from the outside), as well as being longer than a Human’s, extending at least an inch or two back along the foot (again, at least from the outside).</p><p>Despite these differences in basic anatomy there was no differences in mobility or dexterity, L’ara’s feet could do—or not do—all of the same things as Brad’s did, namely keeping her upright and, maybe with some practice, picking up something off the floor.</p><p>That fact still hadn’t prevented some companies from marketing special shoes for non-humans that were supposedly designed to accommodate the different shape and thus, supposedly, were easier to wear, but in L’ara’s own experience those were nothing more than a way of fleecing people out their money, she had found that she could wear shoes made for Humans with no problems, usually only needing to occasionally buy a half size up.</p><p>Wiggling her toes, L’ara undid her jeans, quickly wriggling out of them.</p><p>“Huh,” Brad reached out, grabbing her jeans and turned them over “that’s kinda cool” he noted quietly.</p><p>“What is?” she asked.</p><p>“Well, your jeans,” he held up the item in question “there’s…like a second fly here on the back for your tail”</p><p>L’ara lifted her head, staring at him surprise.</p><p>“We’ve been sleeping together for months and you’re just figuring this out now?” she asked.</p><p>He shrugged.</p><p>“Well how else did you think I got my tail through the opening in the back?” she asked.   Reaching out, she took the jeans from him and, then, rolling onto her side with her back to him, shook out her tail, stretching it out down the length of her body, where, fully extended, it reached past her knees to about halfway down her calves “see? It’s too long to just ‘slip’ through,” she explained, letting out a yelp of surprise as Brad suddenly grabbed said tail, giving the appendage a playful shake and tug.</p><p>“Jerk!” she laughed, pulling her tail free of his grip “most non-human clothing is designed like that,” she continued “at least everything worn below the waist is anyway”</p><p>“What about fur?” Brad asked “I mean, don’t you risk, you know…overheating?”</p><p>“That’s why almost all clothing marketed to non-humans is made of cotton or at the very least a cotton blend,” she explained “of course, I just buy off the rack,” she shrugged.</p><p>She sat up suddenly as if remembering something.   Rolling over, she reached down and grabbed her satchel off the floor, grinning as she pulled it back up onto the bed and, opening it, rooted around inside, triumphantly pulling out something.</p><p>“Picked you up something in Hawai’i,” she explained, holding it up “ta-da!” she proclaimed.</p><p>Laughing, Brad took the item from her.</p><p>“<em>The Martian Manhunter</em>” he grinned as he looked over the comic book.</p><p>“Didn’t know if you already have it or not,” she admitted “I stopped reading comics when I was your age” she shrugged.</p><p>“It’s the thought that counts” he dismissed.</p><p>“You already have that issue, don’t you?” she guessed.</p><p>“Yeah,” he admitted “but, like I said it’s the thoughts that count” he grinned.</p><p>“Good,” she breathed a clear sigh of relief.   Wincing and groaning, she pushed herself upright and then padded across the floor towards the room’s sole window, pulling the curtains aside “hey, come look at this” she called.</p><p>Reluctantly getting up himself, Brad came over to join her.</p><p>“Wow” he breathed as they both looked out across the glittering cityscape of Tokyo.</p><p>“Really something isn’t it?” L’ara mused.</p><p>“Have you ever been here before?” Brad wondered.</p><p>“Actually, no,” she admitted “I’ve been everywhere else on the planet, but never Japan before.   Or Antarctica”</p><p>“There’s nothing <em>in</em> Antarctica” Brad pointed out.</p><p>“So? That hasn’t stopped people from going there,” she scoffed “you can even book a cruise there if you wanted,” she shrugged “speaking of which…” she moved back towards the bed and dug through her satchel again, pulling out her cell phone, dialing a number…</p><p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>San Francisco, California<br/>
United Commonwealths of North America</strong>
</p><p>Lana Markova groaned as a sound intruded on her sleep.   Blinking, she blindly groped around on the nightstand for her phone.   Bringing it to her face, she squinted and winced at the screen.</p><p>“Hello?” she slurred out.</p><p>“<em>Lana,</em>” L’ara greeted “<em>need you to e-mail me that contact list of experts on the Honjō</em>”</p><p>“Wha…?” Lana blinked again and then squinted at the phone’s display again “it’s four AM” she stated.</p><p>“<em>Yeah, well, it’s eight PM over here,</em>” L’ara countered “<em>now did you e-mail me that list or not?</em>”</p><p>“I haven’t even finished it yet” Lana groaned.</p><p>“<em>Well, finish it!</em>” L’ara snapped “<em>you’re not the only one who wants to go back to sleep</em>”</p><p>“Tyrant” Lana muttered as L’ara hung up.</p><p>Tossing the phone aside, Lana threw her pillow over her head and went back to sleep…</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes you really can a book an ocean cruise to antarctica :=)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Rising with the Rising Sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter EIGHT! Enjoy! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>L’ara shifted and blinked awake, taking a moment to get her mental bearings.   Snuggling back up to her pillow, she was content to enjoy that blissful period between waking up and getting up.   Letting out a long, drawn-out groan, she stretched out her arms up above her head.   Rolling out her neck, she turned to her side, blinking in surprise to see Brad was already awake and sitting up, his nose buried in the comic book she’d gotten him back in Hawai’i.</p><p>“Morning” he greeted.</p><p>“Morning,” she replied, a little startled “how long have you been up?” she asked.</p><p>He shrugged.</p><p>“Awhile,” he answered vaguely “about an hour I think”</p><p>“Why didn’t you wake me?” she wondered, absently tucking an arm behind her head and looking up at the ceiling.</p><p>“I was going to,” he replied, absently turning a page “but you looked just so comfy that I decided to let you sleep in a little longer” he explained.</p><p>“<em>Hmm,</em> L’ara gave another languid stretch of all four limbs, the outline of her tail being briefly visible as she rolled halfway over and then rolled back onto her back “I was comfy,” she confirmed “this bed is surprisingly good,” she remarked “either that or it’s the jetlag,” she shrugged.  Scooting up, she snuggled up to Brad’s side, lifting her head to peer at the comic.</p><p>The panel depicted the green-skinned Last Son of Mars mid-transformation into a non-human form, emerging as a red-furred Canine woman in the next panel, while the accompanying speech bubble read <em>‘…disguise is one of my talents’</em>.</p><p>“Any good?” L’ara asked, pillowing her head against Brad’s side.</p><p>“Hmm, not one of my favorites” he admitted.</p><p>“No?” she asked.</p><p>“No,” he shook his head “the bad guys frame him for murder, and so he’s forced to prove his innocence,” he explained “it’s, I don’t know…”</p><p>“…overdone?” she suggested.</p><p>“Something like that,” he nodded.  Seemingly done with the comic, if not outright finished, he lightly tossed it aside onto the nightstand before turning back to her and pulling her close “what kind of comics did you read growing up?”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“Last night, you mentioned that you read comics,” he explained “what kind?”</p><p>“Oh,” she frowned in thought “mostly a lot of the Franco-Belgian comics,” she explained “<em>Tintin</em> and <em>Asterix</em>.   Even <em>Barbarella</em> once I hit my teenage years,” she chuckled “from the mainstream superhero comics, I always liked <em>Wonder Woman</em>”</p><p>“Figures” he snorted, earning him a whack on the arm.</p><p>“Hey, come on, she’s a feminist icon,” she objected “even if one of her villains is a horribly racist character”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Oh.   The character of the Cheetah,” she explained “she started out just as this cat-themed villain, but later a new version of the character was introduced and this version was a rogue archeologist who was cursed by some ancient god or demon who transforms her into this half-human, half-cheetah monster”</p><p>“I think I’m starting to see where the racism comes in here” Brad noted.</p><p>“Hmm, clever boy,” she chuckled “yeah, DC got a <em>lot</em> of angry letters about <em>that</em> one”</p><p>“So what happened?”</p><p>“Uh, well if I remember correctly, they changed it so that the transformation keeps going so that, at the end, she’s more animal that human, but still keeps her mind more or less intact,” she popped her lips “still didn’t tarnish the accusations of furface,” she noted “but my favorite had to be <em>‘Rose &amp; The Thorn’</em>”</p><p>“Don’t think I heard about that one”</p><p>“Yeah, not too many people have sadly.   Anyway, it was about this librarian, named ‘Rose’ obviously”</p><p>“Obviously”</p><p>“…but she had a split personality, so every night when she went to sleep, the other personality, called ‘Thorn’, would take over and got out fighting crime,” she shrugged “pretty simple really”</p><p>“That’s kind of cool,” Brad noted “I wonder why she’s not more well-known”</p><p>“I don’t know,” she shook her head “another cool one was <em>‘Saturnalia: The Space Witch’</em>!” she grinned and spread her hands as if imagining a headline or marque.</p><p>“Wasn’t ‘Saturnalia’ a Roman holiday?” he asked.</p><p>“Yeah,” she nodded “I think the writers of the comic were trying for a feminine take on ‘Saturn’.   Didn’t quite work out that way”</p><p>“So what was that one about?”</p><p>“Exactly what it sounds like,” she chuckled “it took place in the far future, and she was this freelance witch who traveled from planet to helping out whenever she could.   It was unique at the time because she was the first non-human superhero, a Canine to be exact, and, like Barbarella, she also advocated free love, peace, make love not war, and all that jazz,” she playfully rolled her eyes “no offense to my ex-hippie parents, but I was an ‘80s kid, so I didn’t really grow to appreciate <em>Saturnalia</em> until I was older.   Too bad really, because it <em>was</em> cool.  A bit dated, but still cool.  Lots of really exotic locales and aliens, you know?”</p><p>“Kind of like <em>Star Wars</em>?”</p><p>She frowned, as if that hadn’t occurred to her, then nodded.</p><p>“Yeah.   I guess so,” she grinned, but then her expression soured “we have to get up now, don’t we?” she wondered.</p><p>“Probably” Brad nodded.</p><p>Sighing, L’ara reluctantly pulled away from him and kicked the covers off, wincing at the sudden cold, her fur standing on end in response to the change in temperature as she stood up and, stripping off her t-shirt and panties, padded towards the bathroom, glancing over her shoulder as she did.</p><p>“Join me?” she asked.</p><p>Smirking, Brad quickly threw off the covers and hurried after her…</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The Martian Manhunter was originally created by DC Comics as a way of giving readers a Superman-like character but it not being Superman, as the execs were worried that Superman might have been getting too much time in the spotlight.   In L'ara and Brad's world I'm going in the idea that the Martian Manhunter became more popular than Sups, so he got all the movies and TV shows and the like.</p><p>The Wonder Woman villain Cheetah has had three incarnations so far.  The first version was named "Priscilla Rich' and was created by WW's creator William Moulton Marston as an allegory for jealousy and the embodiment of what he called 'the less actively developed' woman (i.e. someone who is emotionally misaligned and who needed a figure like Wonder Woman to guide them).   The Priscilla Rich version was a rich socialite who, despite having wealth, is emotionally insecure and suffers from a split personality.  After being upstaged by Wonder Woman at a charity gala, she snaps and fashions a costume out a cheetah-skin rug.</p><p>The next version of the character was depicted as Priscillia Rich's neice who was tortured and brainwashed by another villain to become the next Cheetah.</p><p>The third-and most well-known version-is Barbra Ann Minerva, an heiress and aristocrat who develops a passon for arechology and, after undergoing a ceremony to become immortal, becomes a cheetah-like creature but since the ceremony was supposed to use a virgin (which Minerva isn't) her 'gift' becomes a curse, and she experiences bloodthirsty cravings as a cat, and severe pain while in her human form and later becomes obsessed with getting ahold of Diana's lasso of truth, and when that failed, she became Wonder Woman's biggest enemy because of her bruised ego.   Since she's often depicted as a half-cat, half-human hybrid, it makes sense that in L'ara and Brad's world, this might be seen as the equivalent of blackface (furface?).</p><p>Saturnalia: the Space Witch is mine! ALL MINE!! :=).   And yes, Saturnalia was a real holiday celebrated by the Romans, to honor the god Saturn (a Roman god who was combined with the Greek Chronus).  During the celebrations, the event took on a carnival-like atmosphere, gambling was permited and masters served their slaves as it was seen as a time of liberty for both slaves and freemen alike.</p><p>The Rose and Thorn were also created by DC Comics, and appeared first as a villain of the Flash, and then later as a viligante seeking out the criminal gang who killed her police officer father, as meek and mildmannered 'Rose she had no knowledge of her alter ego's nighttime activities.   The comic was one of my mother's favorites when she was growing up, and I included it here as a shoutout to her for inspiring my love of reading--and by extension--writing.   Miss you everyday, Mom.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Sharp</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Double update! Chapter NINE! Enjoy! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>Shower sex being impractical in real-life, the pair had an intimate yet ultimately non-sexual time.   Now both freshly showered and dressed, the pair slipped out of the room and headed towards the elevator.</p><p>“OK, according to this <em>very</em> snide e-mail that Lana sent me, one of our contacts is a Professor….Tajiri,” L’ara explained “apparently he—I think it’s a ‘he’ anyway—is an expert on the Tokugawa Shogonate”</p><p>“How can an e-mail be snide?” Brad wondered as they rang for the elevator.</p><p>“I don’t know,” L’ara shrugged “but, somehow, she managed.   Anyway, Professor Tajiri and his assistant are waiting for us at the University of Tokyo” she pressed the button for the elevator, a tad more impatiently this time, as a squeaky, high-pitched barking suddenly came down the hall, followed by a familiar voice calling for quiet.</p><p>“Uh-oh,” Brad remarked “shoe-killer at three o’clock” he warned,</p><p>Turning, L’ara let out a chuckle.</p><p>“Oh yeah,” she nodded “real vicious monster over there”</p><p>Panting harshly, the girl from last night, Miranda ‘Randy’ came over, her shoe-fixated Jack Russel terrier Henry now securely leashed (something which he clearly did not appreciate, if he insistent tugging and whining were any indication).</p><p>“Hello again” Brad greeted.</p><p>“Oh, hi,” Randy gave a shy wave “Brad, right?” he nodded “and…Laura, was it?”</p><p>“L’ara,” L’ara corrected “no worries, everybody gets it wrong the first time” she dismissed evenly.</p><p>“That’s a Selenite name isn’t it?” Randy asked.</p><p>“It is,” L’ara nodded, clearly impressed “well spotted”</p><p>“My step-mom’s a Selenite” Randy explained as an older woman rounded the corner, panting in exasperation as she spotted the teen.   Like her step-daughter, the woman was Human.</p><p>“Miranda, don’t run off like that,” she admonished.   Looking up at L’ara and Brad, she offered a hand “I’m so sorry” she apologized.</p><p>“No need, we were just chatting,” L’ara dismissed “besides,” she bent down and gave Henry a pet “the dog’s a nice bonus”</p><p>Clearly relieved, Randy’s step-mother smiled.</p><p>“Oh.  Good,” she breathed “oh, sorry, I’m E’n’tia, E’n’tia Wells”</p><p>“L’ara Rhys” L’ara replied.</p><p>The elevator dinged, ending an budding conversation.</p><p>“Bye!” Randy waved cheerfully as the pair stepped on</p><p>“Bye” L’ara and Brad waved.</p><p>Henry gave a final bark as the doors closed…</p><p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>University of Tokyo</strong>
</p><p>“Geez!” L’ara jerked back as the cab sped away from the curb “the guy’s a menace!” she exclaimed.</p><p>“I know!” Brad added, absently brushing dust off his shirt and jeans “I think next time we should give that cabbie from last night a call”</p><p>“Hakaru,” L’ara supplied “and I agree,” taking his arm, she tugged his elbow and directed him towards the building “OK,” she pulled out her phone and examined it “according to the snide e-mail, Professor Tajiri is in the…Institute of Oriental Culture…,” she trailed off and looked around, at a loss “which I have no idea where that is”</p><p>“Professor Rhys?”</p><p>Turning at call, she and Brad were met by a pretty young woman escorting an elderly man.   Smiling, the woman offered a hand.</p><p>“I’m Professor Tajiri’s assistant, Yumi,” she introduced herself, before she gestured towards the man with her “this is Professor Tariji” she explained.</p><p>“Professor” L’ara and Brad shook hands with the man, before L’ara gestured towards a nearby bench, the group sitting down.</p><p>“So, what can the Professor tell us about the Honjō? I mean, what happened to it after the war?”</p><p>Yumi bent close and spoke quietly to the Professor, clearly translating L’ara’s question.   Clearly brightening, the Professor launched into a lengthy and an energetic response, his aged hands moving with a speed that bellied his apparent age.</p><p>“He says that the sword is said to have been collected by an American soldier,” Yumi began her translation “but, there are some who believe that it was taken by a former Japanese solider and hidden away”</p><p>“And does he know who might have taken the sword?” Brad asked “where they could have hidden it?”</p><p>Yumi again translated the question, but as the Professor moved to answer, he suddenly stopped midsentence</p><p>“Professor?” L’ara asked.</p><p>Professor Tariji’s eyes suddenly went wide and he suddenly clutched at his side before he suddenly crumpled, collapsing against a shocked Yumi, a knife now firmly embedded in his back….</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The University of Tokyo was founded in 1877 with the combination of several various other institutes of higher learning during the Meji Restoration.   One of the figures responsible for the creation of the university was an Irish mechanical engineer and naval architect named Charles Dickinson West.   Arriving in Japan 1882 he had been hired by the government to help modernize Japan's industries, during his stay in Japan he returned to Europe only once, remaining Japan for twenty-five years until his death from pneumonia on 10 January 1908. He was buried in Aoyama Cemetery in Tokyo.   And in 1910, monument with his bronze bust was unveiled on the main campus of Tokyo University.</p><p>As of 2018, the University of Tokyo's list of former alumni, faculty members and researchers include seventeen Japanese prime ministers, sixteen Nobel Prize laureates, three Pritzker Prize laureates, three astronauts, and one Fields Medalist</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Unit 731</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're BACK,! Chapter TEN! Enjoy! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>The hospital looked and smelled like all hospitals; stark white walls which, despite the staff’s best efforts, still held a strong scent of antiseptic and medicine, as well as the faint undertone of sickness and death.    Professor Tariji had amazingly survived his assault and had even been awake and cognizant when the paramedics had brought him in, but now his fate remained unknown.</p><p>Slumped in a set of hard plastic chairs, L’ara and Brad both stared, unseeing, at the wall before them, there was a poster which seemed to be advertising the hospital’s services, but since neither of them could read Japanese they couldn’t be entirely sure of its exact contents.   Letting out a long, tired sigh, Brad slowly leaned back, his chair thumping against the wall, followed shortly by his head as he tiredly scrubbed at his eyes.</p><p>“What time is it?” he wondered.</p><p>“Not even ten yet,” L’ara sighed.   She slumped forward further, dropping her chin into her palm “you know, I was hoping that this would be a nice trip,” she began “more of an unofficial vacation than anything else,” she explained “we’d chat a few people up about the sword, see the sights, you know, play tourist,” she sighed again “honestly, I didn’t even care if we found the sword or not,” she admitted “oh sure, it would’ve been cool if we did, but at the time, it wasn’t terribly important one way or the other…,” she trailed off “not now though” she added.</p><p>“Yeah,” Brad agreed quietly “who’d want to kill the Professor?” he wondered.</p><p>“Don’t know,” she shrugged “but I find it highly coincidental that on the same day that we meet the Professor he gets stabbed”</p><p>Brad turned to her.</p><p>“You think there’s a connection?” he asked.</p><p>“I don’t believe in coincidences” she stated</p><p>“OK,” he nodded along “but, why?” he wondered.</p><p>“The sword’s Japan’s version of Excalibur,” she reminded him “it’s literally a national treasure,” she pointed out.   She tiredly scrubbed at her at her eyes “ever hear of ‘faith magic’?” she asked.</p><p>“No” Brad shook his head.</p><p>“<em>‘Faith magic’</em> is basically the idea that belief in an object’s power can actually give it power,” she explained “for example, you’ve heard of the Shroud of Turin, right?”</p><p>“Sure,” he nodded “the supposed burial shroud of Jesus”</p><p>“Right,” she nodded “now, there’s been debate over the validity of the Shroud for decades.   Centuries even.   But, again, enough people believe it to be real, and <em>that</em> gives it power”</p><p>Brad frowned.</p><p>“Soo…you’re saying that because enough people might <em>believe</em> that the Honjo has magical powers that it might <em>actually</em> have powers as a result?” he asked.</p><p>“Got it in one” she nodded as Professor Tariji’s assistant Yumi came over, the both of them standing up in response.</p><p>“How’s the Professor?” Brad asked.</p><p>“Resting, thank you,” Yumi replied “but the doctors aren’t sure what will happen next,” she continued, as she absently dabbed at her eyes, it was clear that she cared for the Professor.   Putting away the handkerchief, she reached into her handbag and pulled out a slim, worn, leather-bound notebook “the Professor wanted me to give you both this” she explained, handing it to L’ara.</p><p>“What is it?” she asked, turning it over before opening it, finding a set of handwritten Japanese characters within.</p><p>“A diary,” Yumi explained “it belonged to a solider in the Imperial Army named ‘Isao Miyazaki’.”</p><p>“I know that name,” Brad turned back and dug through L’ara’s satchel, pulling out a notebook, quickly flipping through it “yeah, yeah,” he nodded, holding it out to both women “that was the name of Jennifer’s grandfather’s friend, the solider he supposedly entrusted the sword to”</p><p>“…who was killed in a hit and run afterwards,” L’ara nodded along.   She looked up at Yumi “how did Professor Tariji come across this?” she asked.</p><p>Yumi sighed.</p><p>“The solider, Isao Miyazaki, was…his brother-in-law,” she explained “they were only brothers by marriage, but…” she trailed off.</p><p>“They still cared for each other,” Brad nodded.   He glanced down at the diary “can he translate it for us?” he asked.</p><p>“He’s asleep,” Yumi explained “but, I can translate it for you”</p><p>“Thank you” L’ara nodded.</p><p>Yumi nodded.</p><p>“Of course,” she replied “I can give you a ride back to your hotel,” she offered “or anywhere else you’d wish,” she added “with the Professor…absent, I’m at your disposal”</p><p>L’ara and Brad looked between each other.</p><p>“Lunch?” she asked.</p><p>“I could eat” he nodded…</p><p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>Yumi drove them to a little restaurant nearby.   A small, café-style sushi restaurant.   Finding a table in the back, the two women sat down while Brad made a quiet detour to the men’s room, leaving L’ara to examine their new acquaintance; Yumi was shorter than either her or Brad, standing at about five foot-one if that, with dark brown hair with the faint hints of red highlights.   She was of indeterminate age, she could be younger than Brad or older that L’ara, it was hard to tell</p><p>L’ara was brought back in focus as Brad came back over to the table and sat down beside her and, after ordering, took the diary from Yumi and then both he and L’ara bent over its yellowed pages.</p><p>“OK,” L’ara muttered “it looks like these entries are dated using the Japanese calendar.   So, we just need to find a date that corresponds to the end of the war”</p><p>Taking the diary from her, Yumi gently flipped through it, frowning as she suddenly stopped.   Holding out the book, she revealed that at least four pages had been torn out.</p><p>“Great,” Brad sighed, tiredly rubbing at his eyes.   Blinking, he pointed at the last intact page “what’s that?” he asked, tapping the series of characters on the page, they had been written over and over.</p><p>“Hmm, I’m not certain,” Yumi admitted “but, I think it’s the name of a military unit,” she frowned, tilting the diary “yes, I think it says…<em>‘731 Regiment’</em>”</p><p>L’ara went still.</p><p>“731,” she repeated “<em>Unit</em> 731?” she demanded.</p><p>Yumi studied the text and then nodded.</p><p>“Yes, that’s also written here,” she confirmed “along with other variations”</p><p>“Unit 731?” Brad asked “isn’t that the one you were telling me about?” he asked “the one that did…” he trailed off.</p><p>“Yes,” L’ara nodded grimly “the very same”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Unit 731 (also known as the '731 Regiment', the '731 Detachment' and officially known as the 'Epidemic Prevention and Water Purification Department of the Kwantung Army') was a part of the Imperial Japanese Army operating in Japanese-occupied China which committed various human experimentations during the Second World War, being responsible for some of the most notorious war crimes committed by Japan during the war.</p><p>Among their most famous atrocities was the vivisection of prisoners as well as amputations and organ removal, all without the use of anesthetic.   The official reason for these experiments was medical, limbs of the prisoners were amputated to study how blood loss worked, victims had limbs deliberately frozen to see how frostbite affected tissue, Unit 731 also used human targets during live-fire exercises.</p><p>The unit is said to be responsible for the deaths of 200,000 or 300,000–400,000 or higher from biological warfare.  Over 3,000 from inside experiments (not including branches, 1940–1945 only) and at least 10,000 prisoners dead and with 775 injured.</p><p>However, after the war, the United States gave members of Unit 731 immunity from prosecution in exchange for their help in advancing the Americans' own biological weapons programs, and the later allegations of the unit's actions were dismissed in the West as communist propaganda, while the Soviet Union did try those that they managed to arrest in 1949 (although the Soviets were also said to have been given information on bio warfare by the detainees, and all but one of the prisoners was eventually returned to Japan in the 1950s (the remaining prisoner commited sucide in his cell), and the prisoners were given rather light sentences by Soviet standards, two to twenty-five years in a Siberian labor camp).</p><p>However in the postwar period, many American scientists and doctors have suggested that the knowledge gained from former memebers of Unit 731 didn't really help advace the US's bioweapons program and some have suggested that it was only taken because of the idea of 'forbidden fruit': i.e. they believed that ethical and legal prohibitions could affect their research and would be easier to use the data from Unit 731</p><p>Knowledge of the unit didn't become public in Japan until the 1950s, after the American occupation ended.  Masami Kitaoka, a graduate of Unit 1644 an associated unit to 731, continued to do experiments on unwilling Japanese subjects from 1947 to 1956 while working for Japan's National Institute of Health Sciences. He infected prisoners with rickettsia and mental health patients with typhus, and in 1952, experiments carried out at Nagoya City Pediatric Hospital, which resulted in one death, were publicly tied to former members of Unit 731.</p><p>in April, 2018, the National Archives of Japan released the names of 3,607 members of Unit 731, in response to a request by Professor Katsuo Nishiyama of the Shiga University of Medical Science.   However, many school textbooks in Japan to this day mention the Unit but don't go into any real detail about what exactly they did during the war.</p><p>However there is some brightness to this sad tale, Dr. Ken Yuasa (October 23, 1916 – November 2, 2010) a former member of the Unit is one of the few who went public.   After being arrested and held prisoner in China following the war, he was instructed to write down exactly what he did as a member of Unit 731.</p><p>According to him, once he began to actually think back about it, he realized the heinousness of what he had done and, upon being released, went on tour throughout Japan speaking publically about what Unit 731 did in the hopes of acting as a warning against something like it happening again, despite being told to 'go easy' by others and even receiving death threats from Japanese nationalists, and until his death he continued to tour the country giving talks about his wartime experiences.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Three Minus Nine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're BACK!! "The Blade" is being updated! Enjoy! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>The trio had looked through the rest of the diary for the next hour or so, carefully inspecting each and every page for a hint, a clue, something, but found nothing else of import, at least nothing of import relating to the Honjo that is.   While it was clear that Isao Miyazaki, the diary’s former owner, had been a member or otherwise involved in the actions of the infamous Unit 731, any mention of the unit’s specific actions during the war appeared to have been not included in the diary’s pages.  Or, if they were included, the entries used euphemisms and code to disguise their real meaning.</p><p>Giving up for the moment, L’ara handed the diary back to Yumi and went back to her <em>sashimi</em>, fumbling with the chopsticks for a moment before successfully picking up the tuna and guiding it to her mouth, looking back down at her plate to find, much to her disappointment, that it was empty</p><p>Sighing, she set the chopsticks aside and reached for her cup of rice wine, scowling as she saw that it too was empty.</p><p>“Enough already,” Brad said, plucking the cup out of her hand “you’ve already drunk enough for both of us”</p><p>“No I haven’t,” she declared, already looking a little glassy-eyed “once I start seeing double and can’t walk straight <em>then</em> I’ll have drunk enough for the both of us,” she nodded at Yumi “and her too,” she added.</p><p>Yumi politely declined to comment as Brad picked up the rather-sizable bottle of rice wine and studied the label, but being a teetotaler he had no idea how to decrypt the values on it, finally shaking his head.</p><p>“Yumi, is there a lab we can send the diary to?” L’ara suddenly asked “to have it authenticated?” she elaborated.</p><p>“Yes, of course, at the university” Yumi nodded.</p><p>“Could you have them analyze the diary?” L’ara asked “just to make sure that it’s the real deal?” she urged “I don’t mean to sound disrespectful but I’ve come across a <em>lot</em> of <em>‘World War II diaries’</em> in my time” she made air quotes on <em>‘World War II’</em>.</p><p>“No, of course,” Yumi nodded, taking the diary back from her and then signaling for the check “can I drive you back to your hotel?” she offered.</p><p>“No thanks,” L’ara dismissed “I need to walk this off before the hangover sets in”</p><p>“See, this is why I don’t drink” Brad muttered…</p><p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>Exiting the restaurant the pair parted ways with Yumi, she going one way and catching a taxi, while L’ara and Brad went the other way, merging with the dizzying crowds of modern midday Tokyo.   The neighborhood they were in was fairly calm and quiet for Tokyo, which was to say that it was what San Francisco was on the day of the World Series.</p><p>“How’s your head?” Brad asked a distinct hint of smugness in his tone as L’ara rubbed her temples, clearly already feeling the early effects of a soon-to-be hangover.</p><p>She glowered at him.</p><p>“Shut <em>up</em>” she grumbled as she guzzled another drink from the bottled water she’d bought from a vending machine (this one not being as fun or having the variety as the soup-dispensing one back at the airport).   Recapping the bottle, she absently put it away in her satchel, grumbling as her cell phone rang.</p><p>Pulling the device out, she groaned loudly as she saw the caller ID.</p><p>“Problem?” Brad asked, leaning over to see, giving a sympathetic wince as he saw the caller ID, which read <strong>MOM</strong> in large bold, rather ominous, letters.</p><p>Sighing, L’ara hefted the phone, as if contemplating whether or not to answer the call.</p><p>“You going to answer it?” Brad wondered.</p><p>“If I don’t, she’ll probably call in the damn SAS to find me,” L’ara grumbled “go stand over there, huh?” she asked, making a shooing motion.   Taking a breath as Brad moved back a few feet, she swiped her thumb across the phone’s screen “hi, Mom,” she sighed “what?....no, no, Mom, no, I’m in Japan…yeah, Land of the Rising Sun, that’s it…uh-huh, right, soo…how’s Dad?”</p><p>As L’ara fielded questions from her mother, Brad pulled out his own phone and snapped several pictures, running them through a translator app, only to pause as his shutter-bugging was interrupted by a phone call of his own.</p><p>Frowning, he answered the unfamiliar number.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“<em>Brad?</em>”</p><p>“Lana? How’d you get my number?”</p><p>“<em>It was written in you fuzzy boss’s rolodex,</em>” the woman replied “<em>who still has a rolodex these days anyway?</em>”</p><p>“Lana…,” Brad sighed “this is one hell of a long-distance call”</p><p>“<em>Right.   Sorry.   Anyway, I left a voicemail with her, but I’d thought I’d call you too.   Just got off the phone with the Japanese Consulate</em>”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“<em>And, according to them, some of the swords that the RCMP seized in that raid didn’t make it to Japan</em>”</p><p>Brad blinked, frowning.</p><p>“What do you mean?” he asked.</p><p>“<em>According to L’ara’s friend at the RCMP, there were a dozen swords that they seized from that collector,</em>” Lana explained “<em>but only</em> nine <em>of them actually made it to Japan</em>”</p><p>“Wait, so where did the other three go?” Brad asked.</p><p>“<em>Don’t know, that’s not in my job description,</em>” he could hear her shrug over the line “<em>but let her know, eh?</em>”</p><p>“Will do,” Brad confirmed “thanks”</p><p>“<em>Sure</em>”</p><p>Hanging up, Brad turned back to see that L’ara was just finishing up her own phone call with a tired sigh.</p><p>“Tell me something,” she asked as she came over “how is it that my Mother can tell I’ve been drinking over the phone?”</p><p>“Probably the same reason that she can see when you’re misbehaving without even turning around” Brad chuckled.</p><p>“Yeah, probably,” she agreed “who were you talking to?”</p><p>“Oh, Lana,” Brad replied “according to her, only nine of those swords that the RCMP seized actually made it back here to Japan”</p><p>L’ara’s eyebrows rose and her ears perked up.</p><p>“Oh really?” she asked “hmm, wonder where those missing three have gone”</p><p>“Beats me,” Brad shrugged “but maybe if we find them, we find the Honjo” he suggested.</p><p>L’ara slowly nodded.</p><p>“Maybe” she agreed…</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"SAS" the "Special Air Service", a British special forces unit dating back to World War II who are still around today.  They make the US Navy SEALS look like chumps.   For one thing, SAS members don't write a tell all book about how they killed Osama Bin Laden the second they resign</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Works of Great Quality and Beauty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're BACK! Yes, my original work, "The Blade" is being updated! Enjoy! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>“Ugh!” L’ara groaned, scrubbing at her eyes as she rolled onto her back, staring, unseeing, at the ceiling of the hotel room above her.</p><p>“Any luck?” Brad called from the bathroom.</p><p>“Nope” she called back.   Tucking her arms under her head, she popped her lips as the bathroom door opened, Brad stepping out, toweling off his hair, L’ara throwing a wolf-whistle his way as he absently tugged at the waistband of his shorts.    Shaking his head with a playfully resigned smirk, he grabbed the t-shirt that she threw in his direction shrugging it on and then settling down onto the bed beside her before leaning over to peer at the laptop dutifully humming away.</p><p>“So, no go?” he asked.</p><p>“The Ministry of State’s website is a <em>joke</em>,” L’ara grumbled “and the website for Japan’s own Ministry of Foreign Affairs reads like a corporate ad,” she groaned again, reaching up to tug on her ears in frustration, which looked like it hurt to Brad’s eyes “on the plus side, I did find out some more info about the swordsmith who made the Honjo itself though” she added.</p><p>“Yeah,” Brad nodded encouragingly “shoot”</p><p>“OK,” rolling back over onto her stomach, she pulled the laptop over “Gorō Nyūdō Masamune.   There’re no real exact dates for his life, but he lived from about 1264 to 1343”</p><p>“Seventy-nine years old, give or take,” Brad nodded “not bad”</p><p>“No,” L’ara agreed “now, he reportedly made most of his swords from about 1288 to 1328.   His work is so highly regarded that there’s even an award in his name that’s given out to swordsmiths who do exceptional work”</p><p>“His swords were that good?” Brad asked a tad skeptically.</p><p>“Oh yeah,” she nodded “they’re known for…‘<em>superior beauty and quality</em>’, especially when you remember that, at that time, most of the steel was impure,” she turned back to the laptop, pointing to a line of text “now, there’s a legend about him and another swordsmith, a man named ‘Sengo Muramasa’.   The story goes that both men worked tirelessly to create two swords.  When they were done, they tested the swords by dipping the blades into a local river.    Muramasa’s blade, called the…’Juuchi Yosamu’—which I know that I’m totally butchering—or the ‘10,000 Cold Nights’.”</p><p>“Cheery name”</p><p>“Yeah, no kidding.    Anyway, 10,000 Cold Nights cut through everything that passed the blade’s edge—leaves, branches, fish, even the air”</p><p>“Neat” Brad noted</p><p>“I thought so,” L’ara nodded “now, Masamune, impressed by the other man’s work, lowered his own sword, called the ‘Yawarakai-Te’ or ‘Tender Hands’, into the water.   <em>But</em>, unlike Muramasa’s sword, the Tender Hands only cut leaves or branches, the fish swam right up to it without harm.  In some versions, it even reformed the cut fish and leaves that the 10,000 Cold Nights had cut.   Upon seeing this, Muramasa began to heckle and taunt Masamune for making a poor quality work.    But, a monk, who’d been watching all of this--”</p><p>“Like you do”</p><p>“Like you do,” she chuckled “….came over and explained that Muramasa had made an ‘evil’ sword that cut indiscriminately, while Masamune’s sword couldn’t harm an innocent.   Now, because of this, and the fact that katanas were often used in rebellions against the Tokugawa shogunate, Muramasa’s swords are often referred to as ‘cursed’ swords.    Supposedly, Muramasa was a bit insane in the membrane and that passed that instability into his blades”</p><p>“Well, that’s not too farfetched,” Brad noted “ever touch one of Van Gogh’s works?”</p><p>She stared at him</p><p>“No,” she said slowly “why? Did you?”</p><p>“Once,” he nodded “wasn’t fun”</p><p>“No, I wouldn’t think so,” she noted, frowning at him “you’ve got a bit of the shining in you there, Brad?” she chuckled.</p><p>“Hardly,” he snorted “but I have tested positively for psychometry”</p><p>“No kidding!” she exclaimed “why didn’t you say anything before? That could have helped us out <em>a lot</em> over the past two years!”</p><p>“It’s not like a lightbulb;” he exclaimed, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes “I can’t turn it on at will.    Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t,” he shrugged.   He shifted position, stretching out onto his stomach besides her “now, how does the cool story help us find the sword?” he asked.</p><p>“It tells us what we’re looking for” L’ara explained.</p><p>Brad nodded mutely before pointing at the laptop</p><p>“Anything on those missing swords?” he asked.</p><p>“No,” she shook her head “at least not that I could find” she sighed as Brad tapped his finger on the laptop screen again, this time over the other tab she had open.</p><p>“What’s that?” he asked.</p><p>“Huh? Oh, just some trivia and assorted random facts about Japan,” she explained, clicking on it “for example, did you know that some of the oldest fossils of early-Felines have been found right here in Japan”</p><p>“No.   Really? That’s cool, I didn’t know that”</p><p>“Yeah,” she grinned “I was kind of surprised at that too, until I remembered that Felines evolved in Asia”</p><p>“…and Humans in Africa,” Brad nodded.   He frowned “where did Canines first evolve?” he wondered.</p><p>“North America, believe it or not”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Yeah,” she nodded “Felines and Canines didn’t meet until one of them crossed the Bering Strait.   We still don’t know who or when,” she pushed the laptop away, letting out a long, drawn out groan as she stretched out all five limbs, Brad having to duck as her tail lashed at the empty air, at one point coming a tad too close to his head for comfort.</p><p>Finishing her stretch, she looked towards Brad</p><p>“Room service?” she asked.</p><p>“Didn’t we just eat?” he wondered.</p><p>“Reading about Unit 731 works up one’s appetite” she grumbled, rolling over and picking up the phone and dialing room service…</p><p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>In short order the pair were happily eating some warm soup and watching a truly <em>bizarre</em> Japanese game show.</p><p>“Do you have <em>any</em> idea what’s going on?” Brad suddenly asked, nodding at the TV.</p><p>L’ara slowly shook her head.</p><p>“Not a clue” she admitted.</p><p>The show seemed to be a trivia game, whereby the contestants had to answer a series of questions, facing a truly odd set of punishments if they got the answer wrong.  Currently, one female contestant was having some kind of bright green goo being poured over her by two figures dressed like…some kind of cartoon animals.</p><p>“It’s almost hypnotic,” Brad muttered “I want to look away, but I can’t”</p><p>“Yeah,” L’ara agreed, blinking as a commercial interrupted the show—being equally as energetic as the show itself.   Rapidly blinking, L’ara rubbed at her eyes with one hand.</p><p>“Ugh,” she muttered, quickly grabbing the remote and turning to a news station “I think that’s enough of Japanese <em>Wheel of Fortune</em>” she muttered.</p><p>“Hmm, thanks,” Brad muttered, blinking himself “I think I was starting to see double there” he chuckled.</p><p>L’ara chuckled back as her cell phone suddenly rang.</p><p>“Oh, god,” L’ara groaned, picking it up.   She looked skywards “please not Mom, please not Mom,” she looked down at the screen “oh,” she said, surprised, quickly answering the call and putting it on speaker “Lana?”</p><p>“<em>Hey,</em>” Lana greeted.   She sighed “<em>you were already awake, weren’t you?</em>” she asked.</p><p>“Yep” L’ara laughed</p><p>“<em>Damn!</em>”</p><p>“Lana, honey, I’ve got about ten times more experience with different time zones than you,” L’ara chuckled “so, what’s up?”</p><p>“Well,” miles away across the Pacific Ocean, Lana shifted the phone to the crook of her neck as she studied the laptop screen before her “the guy who was arrested in that joint raid by the Japanese and the RCMP is, surprise, surprise, now a guest of Her Majesty”</p><p>“<em>No surprises there</em>” L’ara remarked.</p><p>“No,” Lana chuckled “but, here’s the fun part.   Apparently before he was sentenced, he tried to strike a pea deal with the Crown”</p><p>“<em>What kind of plea deal?</em>” Brad asked.</p><p>“Oh, hey, Brad,” Lana greeted, surprised.   She squinted at her laptop screen “eh, doesn’t really say,” she admitted “but apparently he tried to sell out his contact in Japan.   Only problem was, nobody could find him”</p><p>“<em>Dropped off the grid?</em>” L’ara asked </p><p>“Kicked the bucket apparently,” Lana answered “the name he gave them was the same as a man who died in Tokyo over eight years ago,” she explained “your friend at the RCMP is mailing me some more documents, but I don’t have all that much faith in Commonwealth Post”</p><p>“<em>They have their moments,</em>” Brad chuckled “<em>thanks, Lana, we’ll take it from here</em>”</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Lana replied “hey, bring me back a souvenir!” she called out.</p><p>“<em>We’ll try,</em>”  L’ara chuckled “<em>no promises though</em>”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The story about Masamune and the other swordsmith Muramasa meeting is a popular one, but most historians doubt it ever actually happened, since both men lived in different time periods.   However Muramasa's blades are reported to be 'cursed' or otherwise 'evil', with a common feature of tales about them being that once drawn they demand blood, even driving the welder to harm themselves or outright commit suicide.</p><p>Theses stories first appeared in kabuki plays in the early-18th and 19th century, and many have suggested that its due in part to the fact that many of Muramasa's swords were used by members of the ruling the Tokugawa shogunate, so whenever bad luck or misfortune happened to a member of the clan it was blamed on the swords.   For example, Matsudaira Kiyoyasu, a grandfather of Tokugawa Ieyasu, the founder of the shogunate, was mistakenly killed by his own vassal with a Muramasa sword.   And Ieyasu's own father was also killed with a Muramasa sword and his killer went insane due to excessive drinking.</p><p>Despite this odd link between the Tokugawa clan, Muramasa's swords, and misfortune, Ieyasu owned two of Muramasa's swords and left them to his descendants.   As of 2013, the Owari-Tokugawa family still holds one of the two as an heirloom.   And Prince Arisugawa Taruhito a member of the Imperial Family, welded a Muramasa sword during the Boshin War (1868-1869)</p><p>Later generations of the Tokugawa clan, however, came to see the swords as cursed, and because of their apparent ties between the clan and misfortune, the shishi (anti-Tokugawa activists) tried to get ahold of Muramasa's blades themselves.</p><p>The term "guest of Her Majesty" is a slang term used in British English to mean in prison, since the names of prisons in the UK, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand are prefaced with 'HRM' meaning 'His/Her Majesty's Prison"</p><p>Felines really did evolve in Asia and canines in North America, Humans of course evolved in Africa</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Faux</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're BACK! Yes, my original work "The Blade" is being updated! So enjoy! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>The news channel that L’ara had changed to continued murmuring on in the background as she and Brad curled up to one another, his hand absently toying with a particularly long loose tuft of fur on her cheek as they raided the minibar.</p><p>“What is this?” Brad asked, squinting at the tiny bottle in his hand.</p><p>“Uh…,” L’ara squinted at it herself “I think that’s…no.   Yes.  Yes, it’s gin”</p><p>“Oh.   Here,” he passed it her “your liver can have that”</p><p>“You hear that, liver?” L’ara asked, looking down at her stomach, giving it a little pat “you can have this horribly overpriced, <em>tiny</em> little bottle of gin,” grinning at him, she opened it and downed its minuscule contents in one go “ooh! That is <em>bad</em>!” screwing up her face in clear disgust, she gagged.</p><p>“That bad?” Brad asked.</p><p>“Terrible,” L’ara chuckled.  She held up the bottle and then looked towards him “you know in the two years that I’ve known you I’ve only seen you drink <em>once</em>; back in Alaska, when we first slept together” she noted.</p><p>“So?” Brad asked, clearly not seeing a point.</p><p>“Nothing,” she shook her head “just…odd, that’s all”</p><p>“Not everyone starts drinking the minute they turn twenty-one, L’ara,” he told her, a distinct hint of snobbery in his tone “I just don’t like alcohol,” he shrugged “don’t like the smell, the taste, don’t like being drunk.    I like being in control of my body and my actions”</p><p>“So, you’re a teetotaler” she guessed.</p><p>“Pretty much,” he shrugged “I might have like <em>one</em> beer every once in a while, but I can never finish it, always get a headache.    Problem?” he wondered.</p><p>“No, no, not at all,” she shook her head “just…a little surprised, that’s all,” she shrugged “probably for the best,” she decided “one of us needs to keep a clear head in this relationship”</p><p>“Yeah, and that’s not you,” Brad chuckled “you <em>thrive</em> on chaos and whatever demented, half-assed plans you come up with to get us out a jam”</p><p>“You’re complaining?” she challenged.</p><p>“Not in the least,” he grinned as he tugged her back against him, his hand going back to stroking her cheek “you need a trim” he remarked suddenly.</p><p>“Hmm, I’m shedding actually,” she murmured, reaching up to tug at the tuft that Brad was toying with.   With a slight grunt of discomfort, she pulled the tuft free and held it out to him “ta-da” she remarked.</p><p>“Huh,” Brad said slowly, taking the tuft from her and studying it “I always thought that ‘fur’ was just euphemism”</p><p>“Nope,” she shook her head “although actually there isn’t much difference between ‘hair’ and ‘fur’,” she explained “see, in most mammals, their hair grows to a certain length and then falls out to be replaced with new hair, right?” he nodded “but with Humans, your hair more-or-less keeps growing and falls out one strand at a time.   But with non-humans, like other mammals, our hair grows to a certain length and then falls out in a large clump.   Here,” she held out her hand, brushing the fur back “see? Under the spots I’ve got an undercoat, you don’t, o hairless one,” she explained, playfully poking him in the arm “fur is also thicker in diameter than hair and provides insulation, whereas hair doesn’t,” she continued “but aside from that, chemically, it’s identical”</p><p>“No kidding” Brad exclaimed.</p><p>“Yep,” she nodded “as for this,” she held up the tuft of fur “my winter coat is starting to come in,” she scowled and began scratching at her neck, tiny tufts drifting off her neck “and it fucking <em>itches</em>!!” she growled.</p><p>“Here” Brad turned to his side, taking the bag of nuts from her and setting aside, and then, gently cupping her neck began a gentle scratching, soft tawny-colored tufts of hair fluttering off to land on the sheets.</p><p>“Oh, yeah,” she sighed, tipping her head back onto his shoulder, causing him to stumble at the sudden weight as she practically melted against him “yeah, that’s the spot” she groaned.</p><p>Suddenly a loud <em>bang</em> came at the door.</p><p>Freezing, the pair broke apart, looking at each other in confusion and apprehension, both jumping as another, softer, <em>thump</em> sounded out, followed by a frantic-sounding scratching and a familiar series of high-pitched barks and growls.</p><p>Smirking, L’ara and Brad gave each other a knowing look.</p><p>“Henry” they both said.</p><p>“Jinx!” L’ara suddenly exclaimed, grinning “<em>you</em> owe me a soda” she declared as she got up, moving towards the door, only to stop as Brad suddenly grabbed her arm.</p><p>“Pants?” he asked pointedly, looking down.</p><p>Following his gaze, L’ara’s ears flattened atop her head in embarrassment when she saw that her modesty was being preserved only by a rather-thin set of panties and the hem of her t-shirt.</p><p>“Oh.   Oops,” she muttered “thanks, that would’ve been embarrassing,” she grinned, quickly grabbing her jeans and wriggling into them, leaving the fly for her tail unbuttoned, before quickly going to the door and pulling it open, smiling down at Henry and his owner.</p><p>“Miranda Randy to your friends, right?” she chuckled.</p><p>“Oh,” Miranda ‘Randy’ blushed “hi.   Again”</p><p>“Hi,” L’ara greeted, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk “so, Henry, care to explain to me what you find so fascinating about me and my boyfriend?” she wondered.</p><p>Behind her, Brad’s eyebrows all-but crawled off his forehead and he lobbed a pillow in her general direction, which she casually deflected with a bat of her tail in what was probably a million-to-one chance occurrence, the pillow landing in an unobtrusive corner.</p><p>In response to her question, Henry the shoe-killer let out another squeaky growl and insistent pull at the leash, one which caused said leash to slip out of Randy’s grasp, the four-legged terror rocketing into the room.</p><p>“Henry! No!” Randy called out as L’ara and Brad both dove to grab the small dog as he dove under the bed, emerging seconds later with one of Brad’s sneakers firmly clasped in his jaws.</p><p>“Ah! C’mere!” Brad hurriedly lunged and scooped up the pint-sized terror and began wrestling with him for possession of the sneaker “give me…my…shoe!” with a final, hard grunt, he succeeded in wrenching the sneaker free from Henry’s maw “thank you!” he snapped, quickly handing the dog off to L’ara who in turn, handed him back to Randy.</p><p>“Oh my god! I’m <em>so</em> sorry!” the girl apologized as she took back the dog.</p><p>“Its fine,” L’ara dismissed.   She glanced at Brad “yeah?” she asked.</p><p>“Fine” he nodded, giving the drool-covered sneaker a grimace as his cell phone rang.</p><p>Turning back to Randy, L’ara gave Henry a little pat on the head and an ear rub.</p><p>“Might want to get one of those retractable leashes for this little guy” she grinned as Randy gathered up the little shoe-killer and waved goodbye, swiftly leaving.   Closing the door, L’ara turned to find Brad was on his phone, nodding at whatever was being said on the other end.</p><p>“That was Yumi,” he announced as he hung up “we just got back the analysis on the diary”</p><p>“And?” L’ara asked.</p><p>“And, either the lab screwed up, or the diary’s about seventy years out of time,” he explained “its fake”</p><p>“Damn” L’ara scowled.</p><p>“Yeah,” Brad nodded “still, who would want to create a fake World War II diary?” he wondered.</p><p>“I think I know who,” L’ara grumbled “get dressed, we’re going back to the hospital” she ordered…</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>True biology fact: Everything L'ara said about the differences between fur and hair is true, chemically there is no difference between the two</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Letters From Beyond</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>OK, as much fun as it is to write fluff for these two, we do have a plot to get back to, so here we are.   Enjoy :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>The hospital staff gave L’ara and Brad a wide berth as they marched through the corridors.   Or, rather L’ara marched, Brad just trailed behind her and did his best to look like a part of the scenery, having learned early on that when she was pissed it was very wise to just shut up and go with the flow, lest she tear you a new one.</p><p>As they rounded the corner and headed towards Professor Tariji’s room an orderly moved as if to stop them from barging in but one look from L’ara sent him hurriedly scurrying away in the opposite direction.</p><p>Glancing at the two Tokyo police officers standing guard by the door, L’ara gave them both a similar look to the one she’d given the orderly and they each stepped aside, allowing her and Brad past.</p><p>Storming into the room, they found Yumi talking with a now awake Professor.   Matching up the bed, L’ara angrily crossed her arms.</p><p>“The diary’s fake” she stated</p><p>“Yes, as I was just asking the Professor” Yumi said.</p><p>“Don’t bother translating,” L’ara scoffed “something tells me that the Professor here speaks perfect English”</p><p>Professor Tariji sighed.</p><p>“You wouldn’t have believed me otherwise,” he began in perfect, American accented English, much to Yumi’s clear surprise “Isao told me that he had been given the Honjo,” he continued “but was afraid what could happen if the Americans got ahold of it,” he shook his head “the war…changed <em>everything</em> for us, for our people.   We had all been led to believe that we were…chosen to rule over Southeast Asia and now our strongest ally was turning against us, calling us war criminals, dismantling our government”</p><p>“And if the American Army got ahold of the sword, they’d kicking you while you already down,” L’ara nodded along “did Isao told you what he did with the sword?” she asked.</p><p>Professor Tariji shook his head</p><p>“No,” he answered “at least, not that I saw at first,” he explained “he sent me a letter, a few days before he died, it was…a poem, and at first I thought that he meant it for my sister, his wife, but as time went on…” here he trailed off.</p><p>“You thought that maybe it was actually meant for you in the first place,” Brad guessed “that maybe there was a clue to where he hid the sword in the letter,”</p><p>Again, the Professor nodded.</p><p>“Why didn’t you just tell us this?” Brad asked.</p><p>“You wouldn’t have believed me,” the Professor sighed “a letter from a dead man to his wife and kept by his brother-in-law,” he shook his head “no, you would have wanted <em>proof</em>”</p><p>For a moment silence reigned over the room before L’ara sighed heavily.</p><p>“When I was starting out,” she began “I was working on a dig in South America.   We were there for over a month and found a lot of artifacts, but I was <em>sure</em> that we were just hitting the tip of the iceberg.   Only problem was, the jerk I was working for didn’t believe me.   She didn’t believe me until I suddenly ‘found’ a letter written by one of Cortez’s men that described another temple in the area”</p><p>Professor Tariji smirked.</p><p>“Did you tell her?” he wondered.</p><p>“Eventually,” L’ara shrugged “once we found the temple that is,” she added with a smirk “I can understand why you did it, I can even empathize, but I don’t like being lied to.   Now, any more secrets?”</p><p>“No, no more secrets” Professor Tariji confirmed.</p><p>“Good,” L’ara nodded “now, about this letter of yours, and the truth this time”</p><p>Smiling, Professor Tariji gestured to Yumi.</p><p>“Yumi, my coat please,” he requested.</p><p>Still looking startled, Yumi stood up and retrieved his coat and brought it over.   Taking it from her, the Professor hunted through the pockets, unearthing a set of keys.</p><p>“The letter’s in my apartment,” he explained, handing the keys to Yumi, who handed them to L’ara “the diary wasn’t entirely fake you know,” he remarked “Isao <em>was</em> a part of Unit 751”</p><p>“Was that another reason why you didn’t tell us?” L’ara wondered.</p><p>He shrugged.</p><p>“Perhaps,” he admitted “but…my injury,” he shook his head “Isao was always proud of his work, he was a patriot”</p><p>“And now you think that some former members of Unit 751 are out to get you?” Brad wondered skeptically.</p><p>“Or maybe trying to find the sword,” the Professor nodded “or maybe they already know where it is and that’s why they tried to kill me,” he shook his head “please, be careful” he pleaded.</p><p>Glancing down at the keys in her hand, L’ara smiled and then reached out and gave the Professor’s hand a reassuring squeeze.</p><p>“Don’t worry,” she told him “we’ll find it”</p><p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>Quietly slipping out of the room (and the past the still-terrified orderly), L’ara and Brad looked between each other.</p><p>“Well, that was…surprising” Brad noted.</p><p>“Yeah,” L’ara nodded “but I get where he’s coming from.   Too many academics refuse to investigate something further without ‘proof’, they all want X to mark the spot” she tiredly rubbed at her eyes.</p><p>“You OK?” Brad asked.</p><p>“Hmm, just tired,” L’ara sighed as her cell phone rang.   Digging the device out, she grinned “Waxman,” she answered “how’s my favorite cheapskate?” she grinned “uh-huh, well I’m not the one who buys valuable artifacts without bothering to check and see if they’re not black market or not, now what do you know about those missing three swords?” she frowned “you’re kidding!” she exclaimed “really? Him?...OK, thanks”</p><p>“Uh, who was that?” Brad asked as she hung up.</p><p>“Emil Waxman,” L’ara answered “the founder and owner of ‘Seven Continents Export &amp; Imports’ out of Calcutta,” she explained “he’s basically a small-time fence.   He buys artifacts sold on the black market for cheap and then sells them to high-profile clients for ten times what he bought them for and pockets the difference”</p><p>“Sounds like a real charming and upstanding person” Brad noted.</p><p>“He’s also a yellow-bellied coward,” L’ara explained “he knows that if he tried to double-cross me, I’d call in every favor I have with law enforcement to get him arrested.   Anyway, according to him, those three missing swords were sold to him by a ‘John Smith’—obviously not his real name—but after Smith sold the swords to Waxman, Waxman then sold them to one Joseph Carver”</p><p>“The media mogul?” Brad asked.</p><p>“The very same,” L’ara nodded, holding out her phone, showing him an article about the man in question “he owns at least a dozen different newspapers, two TV networks, a radio station in New Zealand, <em>and</em> he’s also a collector of Japanese swords”</p><p>“So you think he might also be after the Honjo as well?” Brad asked.</p><p>“If anyone could hire someone good enough to stab the Professor in broad daylight without anyone seeing he’d certainly have the money to do so,” L’ara shrugged, putting her phone away “come on, let’s go check out this letter of the Professor’s” she urged…</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The global black market trade in ancient artifacts is estimated to range in the billions of US dollars.  Often times the people who actually do the selling are often poor people from countries with bad economies and often ravaged by war (see the raid and looting of the Bagdad Museum after Saddam Husain fell from power).   To them, they sell these priceless objects because they simply need the money to feed their families, the people who bear the blame are those who are willing to buy an artifact without caring that it is in effect stolen from its country of origin, and many experts have likened it to the drug trade; as long as people are willing to buy artifacts on the black market there are going to be people who are willing to sell them.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The Chivalrous Ones</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're BACK! "The Blade" is being updated! Enjoy! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>Calling in a favor with the chatty cabbie, Hakaru, L’ara, Brad, and Yumi had piled into the cab and given him the directions to Professor Tariji’s apartment building, arriving just as a drizzle was setting in.   Wiping at her ears, L’ara jogged ahead towards the building, Brad right behind her, while Yumi paused in the cab, quickly pulling an umbrella from her bag and opening it.</p><p>Reaching L’ara and Brad, Yumi pointed out Professor Tariji’s name on the directory and then led them up the short one floor walkup to the apartment, the trio pausing by the door as an old woman exiting her own apartment called out to them.</p><p>Waving, Yumi turned to L’ara and Brad.</p><p>“His neighbor,” she explained quietly “let me talk to her, you go inside, I’ll catch up”</p><p>Nodding, the pair did as asked as Yumi swiftly crossed the hall to speak to the old woman.</p><p>“Ask her if she’s seen anybody hanging out here who shouldn’t be,” L’ara advised as she and Brad entered the apartment, L’ara quietly shutting the door halfway “a <em>genkan</em>” she suddenly said</p><p>“A what?” Brad asked.</p><p>“A <em>genkan</em>,” she repeated, nodding at the floor.   The area directly in front of the door appeared to be linoleum or tile, while the rest of the small space was hardwood “it’s kind of like a combination poach and doormat,” L’ara continued “in traditional Japanese houses it’s usually a recessed area of the floor where the guests are supposed to take off their shoes before coming inside proper, but in apartments like this it’s usually just a spot on the floor like this”</p><p>“Neat,” Brad noted “wonder if that applies to the pizza guy”</p><p>“It does, actually,” L’ara chuckled “the delivery guy stays here while he gets paid and gives the owners their delivery” she explained.</p><p>“Guess that website about Japanese culture is paying off” Brad noted.</p><p>“Yep,” L’ara grinned “not sure what we should do now though, no one’s home”</p><p>“Still, it’d be rude” Brad pointed out.</p><p>“Yeah” she agreed.</p><p>Bending down, they both swiftly removed their sneakers and set them aside before stepping into the apartment proper on socked feet.</p><p>“This is cozy” Brad noted as he looked around the apartment.</p><p>The apartment was small, clearly designed for a single occupant, what in the UC might be called a studio apartment.   An open living area blended into what looked like a combined sleeping area and office; a fully made up futon neatly sat in a corner under a low window opposite a low desk, while a simple kitchenette at the far end of the room and a door that presumably led to a bathroom completed the arrangement.</p><p>Making his way over to the desk, Brad took note of the papers scattered about its surface, frowning as something caught his eye.</p><p>“I think someone’s been here before us” he said.</p><p>L’ara looked up from examining the pair of twin bookcases set against the wall directly behind the desk.</p><p>“What makes you say that?” she asked, coming over.</p><p>“The desk,” Brad nodded “there’s a laptop charger here which is still plugged in, but no laptop,” he explained, holding up the loose cable “correct me if I’m wrong but who plugs in a charger and doesn’t use to charge anything?”</p><p>“Nobody,” L’ara stated “good eye,” she praised, bending down and to examine one of the desk’s drawers “you’re right,” she agreed “someone’s tried to jimmy this drawer open,” she noted “doesn’t look like they got in though”</p><p>“Well, here’s hoping that you’re a better lockpicker than them” Brad noted.</p><p>“Brad,” she admonished gently “now, what do you take me for?”</p><p>They both looked between each other, quickly breaking out into a pair of shy grins.   Quickly reaching into her pockets, L’ara pulled out her Swiss army knife and hurriedly set about jimmying the lock of the drawer open, pulling it open with a triumphant grunt.</p><p>“And?” Brad asked.</p><p>“Uh…well,” she began “doesn’t look like much, mostly papers,” she pulled out a stack of papers and set them down on the desk “got what looks like a bill”</p><p>“Can you read it?” Brad asked.</p><p>“Eh, my Japanese is pretty much non-existent,” she shrugged “but it looks like…,” she trailed off before sighing “….a credit card statement” she concluded disappointedly.</p><p>“Oh” Brad’s disappointment was palpable.</p><p>“Yeah,” L’ara shrugged “too bad, was kind of hoping for some big clue too” she chuckled.</p><p>“Still, we know that someone got here before us,” Brad pointed out “and that they probably took the Professor’s laptop”</p><p>“Yeah, let’s just hope that the letter we’re looking for wasn’t on it,” L’ara grumbled.  Bending back down, she twisted awkwardly, peering under the still-open drawer “oh, clever” she grinned, quickly pulling something free and then holding it up “Brad, take a look at this”</p><p>The object was thin, flat, yellowed with age and carefully secured within a sheet of clear plastic which itself had been taped to the underside of the drawer.</p><p>“That must be it” Brad noted.</p><p>“Must be” L’ara agreed.</p><p>“Well, if your Japanese is non-existent than mine’s even worse” he grumbled.</p><p>“Yeah…” she agreed slowly as the door suddenly opened, L’ara quickly snatching up a letter opener off the desk, relaxing as Yumi softly slipped inside, pausing to remove her own shoes.   Setting her shoes aside, she looked at Brad and L’ara’s sneakers.</p><p>“You’re learning,” she noted with a chuckle “did you find the letter?” she asked as she came over</p><p>“Think so” Brad nodded.</p><p>A loud <em>thud</em> out in the hall suddenly had them all freezing.</p><p>“Did you…?” L’ara began.</p><p>Brad and Yumi both nodded as two men suddenly burst in.   They were both Human, Japanese, each dressed in an expensive and tailored suit.   Each drawing a gun from within said suits’ jackets, the men aimed them at the trio, one barking out an order in Japanese.</p><p>“He, he wants us to go with them” Yumi stammered out as the three slowly held up their hands.</p><p>“We got that.” Brad grumbled.</p><p>He glanced towards L’ara, who shook her head, quickly dropping the letter opener she still held.</p><p>“What is it with us being held hostage?” Brad sighed as the two men approached them…</p><p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>The three were soon blindfolded and then shoved into the back of a car and driven somewhere, being pulled out of the car about fifteen minutes later and, still blindfolded, led into a building some kind.</p><p>Grunting as her arms were pulled behind her back, L’ara stumbled as she was forced down into a chair, blinking as the blindfold was yanked off, squinting as she found that they had been taken to a warehouse of some sort, the place looked as if it had been abandoned for some time, pipes dripped overhead and most of the windows were clouded with dirt and grime.</p><p>Looking to her sides, she saw that Brad and Yumi were in similar conditions but her examination of their predicament was drawn to a halt as a set of footsteps caught her attention.   Turning back, she watched as a Feline man emerged from the shadows.   He was about her age, maybe a little younger, with reddish-grey fur, a noticeable scar ran down his left cheek and one of his ears looked as if it had been actually severed at one point and then reattached, poorly at that.   Like the goons who had abducted the three, he was dressed in a neat suit that probably cost more than L’ara’s annual salary, before taxes.</p><p>Nodding to the goons still guarding the three, he dismissed them with a mere look.    Pulling a folding chair over, he sat down and appraised the three hostages.</p><p>“And you would be?” L’ara asked.</p><p>“No one you’d know,” the man replied in perfect, if accented, English “I understand that you’re looking for the Honjo Masamune”</p><p>“So what if we are?” L’ara shrugged “people have been looking for it since the end of the war, and no one’s found it.    There’s no guarantee that we’ll find it”</p><p>“No,” the man agreed “but most of those previous hunters weren’t going up against multibillionaire media moguls”</p><p>“Who are you?” L’ara asked in exasperation.</p><p>“Yakuza” Yumi answered.</p><p>“Japanese mafia, great” Brad sighed.</p><p>“That’s one term for us,” the man agreed “we prefer the term <em>‘ninkyō dantai’</em>.”</p><p>“Meaning…?” L’ara probed.</p><p>“Chivalrous organizations” Yumi translated with a scoff.</p><p>“You chose your path, we’ve chosen ours” the man dismissed.</p><p>“What do you want from us?” L’ara asked.</p><p>“From you, nothing, Professor Rhys,” the man answered “but the sword however….”</p><p><strong>[</strong>It belongs to Japan!<strong>]</strong> Yumi exclaimed in Japanese.</p><p>“You’re right,” the man answered in English “it does belong to Japan, and while you and I may disagree on our respective life choices, I think we can all agree that the sword’s rightful place is a museum”</p><p>“Wait,” L’ara began, confused “you’ve abducted us just to tell us that you want to see the sword returned to the people of Japan?”</p><p>“Surprised?” the man asked.</p><p>“Little bit, yeah” she nodded.</p><p>“I may not be the most law-abiding citizen,” the man began “but I am proud to be Japanese.   The last thing I want is for some greedy billionaire to take a national treasure and hide it away in some vault somewhere,”</p><p>He snapped his fingers, the goons reappearing silently, like wraiths.</p><p>“You’re free to go,” the man explained as the trio was released.   He stood up, holding out a slim card to L’ara which she took with some clear hesitation “if you do find the sword, please, don’t hesitate to call” the man remarked.</p><p>With that, he turned and with his two goons swiftly disappeared into the shadows…</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A <em>genkan</em> is a unique feature in traditional Japanese houses, serving as an entryway for guests and the homeowner.   Typically a recessed area just inside the door, and serves to allow visitors to remove their shoes before coming into the house proper.   In apartments, where space is a premium, its usually made of a different type of flooring material than the rest of the space.</p><p>The yakuza are described as one of "the most sophisticated and wealthiest criminal organizations" and at their height in the 1960s, Japanese law enforcement estimated that their membership was about 200,000 but that number has dropped significantly owing to changes in the market for criminal activities and social changes in Japan, and they are seen a semi-legitimate organization by some.    During the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami, the yakuza sent several trucks with relief supplies to affected areas, and many Yakuza see their income (usually gotten by hustling) as a form of a feudal tax.   That being said, the yakuza still engage in various criminal activities and are still seen by many Japanese as a credible threat.</p><p>The word 'yakuza' roughly translates as "the extreme path" in English and originates from a traditional card game where the worst possible hand to draw is 8-9-3, pronounced 'ya-ku-za'.   The Japanese police and media, at the request of the police, use the term "bōryokudan" to describe them, meaning 'violent groups', while the yakuza themselves use the term "ninkyō dantai" meaning "chivalrous organizations".</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Nightlife</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're BACK! That's right! My original work, "The Blade" is FINALLY being updated! So enjoy! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>Exiting the warehouse, L’ara, Brad, and Yumi all squinted in the light of the rapidly-setting sun.</p><p>“Where are we?” Brad asked, looking around.</p><p>“Good question,” L’ara muttered, also looking around “are we even still in Tokyo?” she wondered.</p><p>“We are, yes,” Yumi nodded “but…,” she looked around, clearly trying to spot a landmark “I’m not sure where…oh,” she suddenly pointed “there, <em>Kabuki-chō </em>, the entertainment district” she beamed, clearly proud at herself at having spotting the area.</p><p>As Yumi confidently made her way towards the area in the distance, Brad leaned towards L’ara.</p><p>“When she says ‘entertainment district’…” he began in a low voice</p><p>“Red light district,” she nodded “relax,” she laughed, giving him a pat on the shoulder “it’s not like Amsterdam; you won’t get accosted by hookers,” she declared.   She paused and frowned “well, <em>you</em> might,” she admitted, looking him up and down “what?” she laughed at his expression “you’re very handsome!”</p><p>“…thank you?” Brad tried as they followed Yumi, jogging a bit to catch up with her…</p><p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>By the time they reached the main part of the district the sun had already set.   Not that such a fact would have particularly mattered given that the blinding neon adorning nearly every building made the whole area as bright as daylight.</p><p>Sidestepping a large—and already outrageously drunk—group of salerymen (all of whom appeared to be staggering home fresh off the previous night’s bender), L’ara and Brad hurried to keep pace with Yumi, who easily navigated the crowded streets like a fish took to water.</p><p>“You know, I’ve been thinking about something” L’ara said suddenly as they sidestepped another group of pedestrians.</p><p>“Yeah?” Brad asked.</p><p>“Yumi and the Professor” L’ara nodded at the woman in question.</p><p>“OK?” Brad asked, clearly not seeing her point.</p><p>“I think she likes him,” L’ara explained “and I mean in more than a professional way”</p><p>“So? Your point being…?” Brad asked, clearly still not seeing her point.</p><p>“I dunno,” she shrugged “I just thought it was interesting”</p><p>“So is a Fellini film,” Brad countered “doesn’t make it important to the here and now”</p><p>“You’re in a bitchy mood” she noted.</p><p>“We were just abducted by the Japanese mafia,” he pointed out “forgive me for not exactly being full of ‘glee’ right now”</p><p>“Wuss,” L’ara scoffed “trust me, the yakuza are the <em>least</em> scary people who’ve abducted me since I started this job.   You’re fine”</p><p>“Uh-huh,” Brad replied dubiously “forgive me if I don’t trust the guy who looks like he had his ear reattached by a back alley surgeon” </p><p>L’ara just rolled her eyes as she gave him a playful jab in the arm as they finally caught up with Yumi who was ducking into what looked like a yakitori bar.   Following her inside, the pair squeezed down the narrow aisle and found a pair of seats next to Yumi at the counter.   Perching on the narrow stools, L’ara gently tapped Brad on the shoulder, pointing at a sign in the back of the small space where he could just make out the English word ‘LAVATORY’ printed on it.</p><p>Nodding in silent understanding, he watched as she swiftly got up and hurried down the narrow aisle, her tail lashing at the empty air as she quickly disappeared around the corner.   Now alone with Yumi, Brad signaled to the chef behind the counter, pointing at Yumi’s plate and then at himself, hoping that from the older man’s smile and nod that meant that he understood Brad’s request for one of the same.</p><p>As the chef went about his business, Brad turned to Yumi, noticing that she hadn’t touched her plate yet, in fact she was practically motionless.</p><p>“Yumi?” Brad quietly.   As he watched, her hands began to slowly but visibly tremble “whoa, whoa, easy,” reaching out, he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder and took her arm with his other hand when it looked as if she might go tumbling off the stool as she became frighteningly pale “breathe,” he urged softly but firmly “breathe.   Nice, deep slow breaths,” he encouraged her, stroking gentle circles on her shoulder as he did.</p><p>Visibly shuddering, Yumi nevertheless did as instructed, her color starting to come back as she did.</p><p>“Better?” Brad asked.</p><p>She nodded shakily.</p><p>“Yes.   Thank you,” she nodded.    Still looking more than a litte pale, she reached out and picked up the cup of <em>sake</em> that had been placed before her along with her meal and downed it in one gulp, letting out a breath as she set the cup down “you and Professor Rhys, you’ve experienced this before?” she asked.</p><p>“Being kidnapped?” Brad asked.   She nodded “yeah, it’s kind of an occupational hazard of working with her, I guess,” Brad shrugged “it’s upsetting, but we’ve never been hurt.   At least not seriously.   Mostly, the people who do the kidnapping do it to try and scare us off.   If they actually wanted us dead, we wouldn’t be here right now” he continued.</p><p>“Does it work?” Yumi wondered “the frightening off, I mean?”</p><p>“On me? Yeah, a little bit,” he nodded “on L’ara? No, not really,” he shook his head “honestly, I think it just pisses her off more than anything else” he admitted.</p><p>Yumi cracked a weak smile at that.</p><p>“You and her, you seem quite close,” she noted “would it be presumptuous of me to ask….how close?”</p><p>“We’re dating, if that’s what you’re asking” Brad nodded.</p><p>“Oh,” Yumi said softly, clearly unable to hide her surprise “but…you’re both different species” she said needlessly.</p><p>“Good of you to notice,” Brad chuckled, murmuring a quiet <em>domo arigato</em> to the chief as he order was placed before him “I’ve never really found Human woman all that attractive,” he explained, fumbling with the chopsticks for a minute or two “always found non-human women more appealing” he shrugged.</p><p>“Oh” Yumi said again, softly.</p><p>“No offense to you, I mean!” Brad added hastily when he realized how that remark could be taken.    But if Yumi did take any offense she never got the chance to voice it as at that moment L’ara herself returned, suddenly dropping down on Brad’s other side with a tired sigh</p><p>“Hey,” the Feline said “everything OK?” she asked, looking between the pair.</p><p>“Bit of a hard time over the kidnapping” Brad explained.</p><p>“Oh,” L’ara nodded as she signaled to the chef, pointing at their plates “everything good now?” she asked.</p><p>Yumi nodded, still looking a little pale, but her color was coming back and her tremors had stopped.</p><p>“Yes,” she confirmed “all good now” she nodded as she picked her chopsticks.</p><p>“So,” L’ara began in between ravenous bites of grilled chicken “I just got an e-mail from Lana”</p><p>“Is it snide?” Brad asked, gently reaching out and pulling her plate away from her somewhat “go easy there, huh?” he muttered.</p><p>“No, it’s not snide,” L’ara replied, glowering at him as she quickly pulled her plate back “but, apparently my buddy Phil at the RCMP came through,” she explained, setting her chopsticks down and pulling her out her phone and holding it out “by the way, do you how awkward it is to try and read an e-mail in the bathroom?” she asked rhetorically.</p><p>“I’m not even going to respond to that one,” Brad muttered, taking the phone from her and skimming through the e-mail before showing it to Yumi “so, who is this guy?” he wondered, absently handing the phone back to L’ara.</p><p>“According to Phil he’s the son of one the men who used to be in the same unit as Isao Miyazaki and Professor Tariji,” she explained, holding the phone out again, displaying an image of a middle-aged man dressed in a neat suit and tie “meet <em>‘Gendi’</em>,” L’ara introduced “and before you ask, yes, he’s apparently one of those ‘trendy’ people who thinks that having two names is horribly passé.    More to the point, he’s also one of the people suspected as being the middle man in the sale of those missing three swords to our media mogul Joseph Carver,” she paused to down the cup of <em>sake</em> provided by the chef “and, he hasn’t exactly kept a low profile since the war ended,” she added “apparently he’s managed to wheel and deal himself into becoming one of Japan’s biggest movers and shakers”</p><p>“Meaning…?” Brad probed.</p><p>“He helps businessmen have a good time, without bothering with those pesky little things called ‘laws’,” she explained “he apparently makes sure that diplomats also have a good time too while they’re here”</p><p>“Of course he does” Brad nodded with a disgusted scowl as he leaned against the counter with a frown and then, gently taking L’ara’s wrist, peered at her watch, frowning as he realized that he couldn’t read an analog clock face.</p><p>“It’s getting late,” L’ara nodded, signaling for the check “Yumi, you going to be OK?” she asked.</p><p>“Hmm?” Yumi looked up, looking slightly startled “oh.   Yes, thank you, I’ll be fine, Professor” she said.</p><p>Nodding, L’ara accepted the check from the chef.</p><p>“I’ll pay,” she offered, suddenly scowling at the check “am I reading this right?” she asked, holding the check out towards Yumi.</p><p>“Yes, that’s right,” Yumi nodded “one thousand yen”</p><p>“It’s only ten dollars” Brad shrugged.</p><p>“It’s highway robbery” L’ara grumbled, nevertheless digging a bill out of her pocket and handing it to the chef.    Getting up, the three went their separate ways; Yumi softly waving to L’ara and Brad as they went the opposite way.</p><p>Quickly losing sight of Yumi in the crowd, L’ara looped her arm with Brad’s curling up to him, her tail coming up to wrap around his waist, startling him somewhat.    Smiling, he tugged her closer, her head resting against his shoulder as they set about finding a taxi…</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Kabuki-chō is Tokyo's entertainment distract.   It's named that because, in the late-1940s, a kabuki theater was going to be built there, the theater was never built but the name stuck.   Historically the area was a hotbed for crime, in particular, the yakuza, but in recent years, thanks to an increased police presence and a series of new laws that make working with the yakuza illegal the area is quite safe now, in fact the most you probably have to worry about is a scheme called "bottakuri", a kind of bait-and-switch scam where a person is lured into a bar or restaurant with the offer of a deal or other reduced price, only for the place to add a series of hidden fees to your bill.   In one notable case, a group of nine were lured into bar with the offer of an all-inclusive cost of only 4,000 yen.   The hostesses inside the bar drank a total of 172 drinks and the total bill was 2,663,000 yen</p><p>Yakitori is grilled chicken.   In everyday Japanese the word can refer both the dish of grill chicken skewers specifically or as a general catch-all term for any grilled and skewered meat</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Flags and Families</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter SEVENTEEN of my original work "The Blade" is up! Also the first update for this story of 2021! Whoo-hoo!! Enjoy! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>Getting back to the hotel, L’ara and Brad had swiftly collected their keys from the front desk and shambled up to their room, slipping inside with two tired groans.</p><p>“I’m going to collapse right here” Brad sighed, flopping down onto the bed with a tired groan.</p><p>“You do that,” L’ara nodded tiredly “I’m going to take a shower first, then collapse”</p><p>“Uh-huh” Brad waved distractedly in reply as the bathroom door shut behind her.   Rolling over his back, he scooted back on the mattress so that he had more support under his back and legs, blinking as his shoulder bumped into L’ara’s satchel.</p><p>Lifting his head, he propped himself up and pulled the weathered item towards him, examining it.     L’ara had had it for as long as he’d known her, when at the university she used it to carry papers and books and it typically occupied a hook behind her desk in her office when not in class.   While on trips such as this one she still used it to carry papers and books, but also small items, snacks, and pretty much whatever else she deemed it capable of carrying, regardless of whether it actually fit inside or not.     He wasn’t sure how old it was but it looked like it had been through the wars, the brown leather worn and cracked and discolored, it had clearly once had a rectangular, boxy shape but L’ara’s repeated stuffing oversized items into it had clearly taken the ‘box’ out of the equation.</p><p>Turning it around, Brad had to smirk at the sight of the American flag patch on the other side; the blue field broken by forty-two white stars arranged in a circular pattern—each representing one of the forty-two individual Commonwealths that made up the UC and affectionately known as the ‘wagon wheel’ pattern—in the upper left-hand corner while below those stars were three gold fleur de lies arranged in an inverted triangle and, at the end of the banner, two vertical white and red bars that, when combined with the blue field, represented the nation’s duel French and British heritage.   He’d never pegged L’ara as the overtly patriotic type and nor had she given him any indications of her personal politics so the origin of the flag patch was a mystery.</p><p>Grabbing the satchel, Brad quickly stuffed it under his head, finding that it made a surprisingly comfortable pillow.    A surprisingly comfortable pillow that was ringing it seemed.</p><p>Groaning, Brad reluctantly sat up and opened the satchel, digging out L’ara’s phone, expecting to see a call from Lana or one of the Deans at the University on its screen.    Instead, he was confronted with the ominous word ‘MOM’ in big and bold letters.   Hesitating much like the proverbial deer in the headlights, he froze, wondering what to do.   He could just let it go to voicemail he knew, or possibly he could knock on the bathroom door and summon L’ara but he could already hear the shower going and he highly doubted that disturbing her in the midst of a shower just to tell her that her mother was calling would go over well, and somehow he doubted that letting it go to voicemail would earn L’ara any brownie points with her Mother either.</p><p>Shrugging, he gathered up his courage and answered the phone.</p><p>“L’ara Rhys’ phone”</p><p>“<em>L’ara?</em>” a woman’s voice asked.</p><p>“I’m sorry, she’s not available right now,” Brad replied, using his best ‘assistant’ voice even though he could feel his heart threatening to crawl out of his throat and go gallivanting around Tokyo “can I take a message?” he managed to add.</p><p>There was a pause, as if the woman was double-checking that she’d dialed the right number.</p><p>“<em>Who is this, exactly?</em>” she asked.</p><p>“This is Mr. Jones, Professor Rhys’ assistant” Brad replied <em>‘oh, god, please believe me’</em> he silently pleaded. </p><p>“<em>I see,</em>” Mrs. Rhys (he assumed that she was called ‘Mrs. Rhys’, for all he knew she hadn’t taken her husband’s name.    Hell, for all he knew L’ara’s parents weren’t actually married at all) said slowly “<em>tell me, Mr. Jones was it? Does my daughter</em> always <em>bring her assistants along with her on trips to find ancient Japanese swords?</em>” she asked.</p><p>Brad froze again.   Oh, she was <em>good</em>.</p><p>“<em>That’s what I thought,</em>” Mrs. Rhys chuckled before a chime from the phone had Brad pulling it away from his ear to see a request for a video call.  Accepting the call, he tilted the phone until he was more or less certain that his face could be seen.   The Feline woman on the other side of the screen was surprisingly youthful-looking, her auburn fur showed nary a grey hair in sight (at least none on her face anyway) even though there were clear signs of aging on her face; a few laugh lines around her cheeks, the fur under her chin had lost some of its sheen, but still, she looked remarkably young for someone who had a forty-five year old daughter.</p><p><em>‘How old was she when she had L’ara?’</em> Brad wondered <em>‘sixteen?’</em> and that itself begged the further question of how old she must have been when she’d had L’ara’s brother who had tragically been killed in action at age nineteen in Vietnam only a few weeks after L’ara had been born.</p><p>A closer inspection of Mrs. Rhys revealed that L’ara must’ve taken after her Father in looks it seemed, as Brad couldn’t really see anything familiar in the woman before him, especially not over the grainy, low-resolution image and on such a small screen at that, but he could see that her ears were more pointed than L’ara’s rounded ones, and in place of the black rosettes on L’ara’s yellow fur her Mother had brown fur with a series of faint lighter colored stripes (<em>‘a brindle patter’</em>, Brad’s mind supplied).</p><p>But her eyes were the same as L’ara’s, that same bright, not-quite-blue, not-quite-grey color that had caught his attention from the moment they’d met.   Now a nearly-identical pair of those eyes bore into him across the miles of ocean between Japan and California.</p><p>“Ma’am” he nodded, settling on a neutral—yet polite—line of greeting.</p><p>“<em>Mr. Jones,</em>” she acknowledged “<em>any relation to a Mr. ‘Brad Jones’?</em>”</p><p>“That’s me” Brad nodded.</p><p>“<em>Hmm,</em>” Mrs. Rhys frowned, leaning in closer to study him “<em>somehow, from what my daughter told me, I thought you’d be older for some reason</em>” she remarked</p><p>“Thank you, ma’am?” Brad replied, not exactly sure how to respond to that.</p><p>“<em>Now then, would you care to explain to me</em> what <em>your intentions are with my daughter?</em>” she asked.</p><p>Brad froze again.   Oh she was <em>really</em> good.</p><p>“Uh…” was all that his brain could come up with in response.</p><p>“<em>There are only two kinds of people my daughter brings on her adventures,</em>” Mrs. Rhys began “<em>fellow academics of note.    And her boyfriends.   And, since you look fairly young to be an academic of note, I have to surmise that you’re her boyfriend</em>”</p><p>“Wow, you <em>are</em> good” Brad finally managed to get out.</p><p>“<em>This isn’t my first rodeo, dear,</em>” she chuckled.   Her eyes narrowed at him “<em>so?</em> Are <em>you her boyfriend?</em>” she pressed.</p><p>“Yes, ma’am”</p><p>“<em>Hmm, ‘ma’am’,</em>” she noted “<em>polite, but not a kiss-ass</em>”</p><p>“I try to be polite” Brad confirmed with a nod.</p><p>“<em>In general? Or only where your girlfriend’s parents are concerned?</em>”</p><p>“In general,” Brad nodded “and, honestly, I’ve never gotten this far in a relationship before,” he admitted “meeting her parents I mean”</p><p>He winced as Mrs. Rhys’ eyes narrowed at him suspiciously at that statement and he suddenly realized how that sounded.</p><p>“<em>Might I ask why?</em>” she asked in a tone that indicated that it wasn’t a question.</p><p>“Just…haven’t,” Brad shrugged “I guess I’ve never been this close to any of my previous girlfriends before”</p><p>“<em>But, I’m assuming that you’ve worked with my daughter first before you started dating</em>”</p><p>“That’s right,” Brad nodded “two years more or less”</p><p>“<em>And how long has it been since things…changed?</em>”</p><p>“Uh, three months? Give or take” Brad replied, finding his initial nerves easing despite the way the conversation was going.</p><p>“<em>Let me guess,</em>” Mrs. Rhys began, a smirk starting to play on her features “<em>she made the first move?</em>”</p><p>“Oh yeah” he nodded.</p><p>Her smirk broke out into a full-blow grin and she threw her head back, laughing heartily.</p><p>“<em>That sounds like her,</em>” she chuckled “<em>and you’re still standing so that already puts you ahead the previous guy,</em>” she added.   She frowned “<em>what was his name anyway?</em>” she wondered “<em>Rick? Nick? Mick? I know it was something with an ‘ick’ sound,</em>” shaking her head, she turned back to Brad “<em>let’s start over,</em>” she began “<em>I’m C’ana Rhys,</em>” she introduced herself “<em>‘Connie’ to my friends</em>”</p><p>“C’ana,” Brad repeated “that’s pretty” he noted.</p><p>“<em>Oh! And he wins again!</em>” C’ana grinned.</p><p>“I’m sorry?” Brad asked.</p><p>“She said her friends call her ‘Connie’,” L’ara’s voice said “but you didn’t call her that.   Implying that you know that you’re not her friend just yet,” she continued.</p><p>Looking up, Brad saw L’ara stepping out of the bathroom wrapped up in a towel.  Crossing over to the bed, she sat down, leaning into view of the phone’s camera.</p><p>“Hi, Mom” she waved with a good-natured, playful roll of her eyes.</p><p>“<em>Hello, honey,</em>” C’ana waved “<em>and I saw your eyes roll up into your head,</em>” she added in a mock stern tone “<em>it’s not</em> my <em>fault that he answered the phone</em>”</p><p>“Yeah, why did you?” L’ara asked, turning to Brad to look at him questioningly.</p><p>“I…really don’t know” he admitted.</p><p>“<em>And honest too,</em>” C’ana grinned “<em>I’ve got to say, you’ve picked a good one here</em>”</p><p>“I only work with the best,” L’ara grinned as she wordlessly took the phone from Brad “you taught me that”</p><p>“<em>So, I did,</em>” C’ana nodded “<em>although, I must admit to being surprised,</em>” she remarked “<em>none of your past boyfriends have been Human</em>”</p><p>“Can’t control who you’re attracted to, Mom,” L’ara shrugged “hell, didn’t you and Dad meet at Woodstock?”</p><p>C’ana scowled</p><p>“<em>How old do you think I am?</em>” she snorted “<em>no, as you well know, your father and I met during a love in at Haight and Ashby in 1961</em>” her expression turned distant and fond, clearly the moment was one she still recalled with great affection.</p><p>“Where is Dad, anyway?” L’ara wondered, peering at the screen.</p><p>“<em>Jail,</em>” C’ana sighed “<em>your father decided to get into an argument with the Macreadys again.    Mrs. Macready started yelling.   Your father yelled back, and then he threw one of her stupid lawn gnomes through a window</em>” she sighed, and from her tone and both women’s lack of any severe shock, Brad guessed that this was a surprisingly frequent occurrence.</p><p>“Oh! Dad!” L’ara groaned.</p><p>“Does that happen often?” Brad wondered “your Dad getting arrested, I mean?”</p><p>“<em>More often than you’d think for someone his age,</em>” C’ana sighed “<em>he’s already called me and I’ve got the bail money all ready to get him out</em>”</p><p>“But you’re going to let him stew overnight” L’ara guessed.</p><p>“<em>As usual,</em>” C’ana nodded “<em>and then, like always, he’ll promise not to get so hotheaded again, and I’ll believe him, and for a while, we’ll be good, until one of us sees something that pisses us off, and well…</em>” she trailed off with an embarrassed shrug, her ears flattening atop her head in clear embarrassment</p><p>“Wait, so you and your husband have both been arrested?” Brad asked.</p><p>“<em>Oh multiple times,</em>” C’ana nodded “<em>we saw ourselves as something of a pair of rebels back then,</em>” she chuckled “<em>still sure you want to date my daughter, Mr. Jones?</em>” she asked.</p><p>“The first time we met, your daughter dragged me off to Las Vegas to find some artifact being sold on the black market,” Brad began with a smirk “next thing I know I’m being thrown out of a casino by two of the <em>biggest</em> pit bosses that ever existed.   And that was <em>before</em> the Vegas mob left us stranded out in the desert”</p><p>“Yeah, thank god for that brothel” L’ara muttered.</p><p>“<em>Brothel?</em>” C’ana asked.</p><p>“Oh.   Yeah,” now it was L’ara’s turn for her ears to flatten atop her head “we spent about three hours following the road back into town before we finally stumbled across one of the brothels out there,” she explained “they were nice enough to give us some food and water and call the cops”</p><p>“<em>Lucky,</em>” C’ana remarked.   She paused, glancing at something at off to the side “<em>well, it’s getting late, I’d better get going if I’m going to get up early to bail your father out,</em> she remarked “<em>when you get back from Japan, I</em> want <em>to see you for dinner, L’ara</em>” she ordered.</p><p>“Yes, ma’am” L’ara gave her a two-fingered salute.</p><p>“<em>Oh, and bring Brad,</em>” C’ana added “<em>it’d be nice to see him in person</em>” she grinned.   Then with a final wave, she signed off, the screen going dark.</p><p>L’ara flopped down onto the mattress with a sigh.</p><p>“Wow,” was all she said “so,” she remarked “you’ve met Mom”</p><p>“Looks like” Brad remarked.</p><p>“So, what’d you think?”</p><p>“Too soon to tell,” Brad shrugged “still, I can see where you got your…spunk from”</p><p>“Oh yeah,” she laughed “if you think my Dad getting arrested often is impressive, you should see Mom’s rap sheet,” she grinned “I mean this is a woman who once broke into an animal testing lab and somehow managed to drive off with more than a hundred rabbits all crammed into a VW microbus <em>and</em> she managed to get across Commonwealth lines into Oregon before the cops caught her”</p><p>“Seriously?” Brad asked.</p><p>“Heart to Moon,” L’ara nodded “she’s got photos to prove it and everything.   And family legend has it that she supposedly gave birth to my brother while arguing with her parents <em>and</em> she refused to see them at the hospital until they gave up about the adoption”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Oh, sorry,” L’ara smirked “yeah, my brother, technically he was my half-brother.   His father was a different man than mine,” she explained “teen pregnancy, Mom had him when she was sixteen or so.   The SOB who knocked her up apparently couldn’t be bothered to take responsibility either,” she shrugged “never found out who he was, Mom wouldn’t say, and from the look on her face every time she mentions him I think if he ever did decide to show his face she’d castrate him”</p><p>“Wow,” Brad remarked “your family history makes mine look downright normal,” he chuckled “I mean, I was only raised by my Grandfather because my parents were killed in a car accident.   But nobody in my family ever got arrested.   At least my parents certainly didn’t”</p><p>“I’ve been meaning to ask,” L’ara began “but, do you remember your parents?” she wondered “you don’t have to answer,” she added quickly “I get that its sensitive”</p><p>“No, no, it’s fine,” he dismissed “I was…ten or so when they died.   Maybe a little younger,” he shook his head “I don’t doubt that they loved me,” he began “but…they were…distant,” he explained “they didn’t show affection openly like the other kids' parents did.   My Mother never hugged me in public, and my Father, god, you know I can’t ever remember him hugging me at all”</p><p>“That’s awful” L’ara stated.</p><p>“Yeah, it is,” he nodded “still, good or bad, they were my parents.   And it wasn’t all bad.   A lot of the other kids around me had parents who treated them like little dolls or toys, something to show off, my parents at least were proud of me for just being me, and not for how successful I was”</p><p>“Well that’s good at least,” L’ara grumbled “so, what’s your Grandfather like?”</p><p>Brad smiled.</p><p>“You’d like him,” he remarked “he’s one of those guys whose still a kid at heart, you know?” she nodded “he once tried to show me how dangerous fireworks were by making and setting off some in the backyard.   Needless to say but the fire brigade had to be called”</p><p>“Sounds like my Dad,” L’ara laughed “one time he tried to get rid of this old tree stump in the front yard.   And instead of getting some tools and some extra manpower he decided to tie a rope to the stump and the other end to the rear axle of the car”</p><p>“Oh no”</p><p>“Oh yes,” she nodded “<em>completely</em> tore the axle! That tree stump is still there by the way, so I’m not sure what that says about the power of Mother Nature or the manufacturing standards at the Ford Motor Company.    But, anyway, every time we have guests over, Dad will inevitably at some point draw attention to it and calls it his ‘arch-nemesis’.”</p><p>“And let me guess, each time he tells the story, it gets more and more outlandish” Brad guessed.</p><p>“Got it one, ace,” she nodded.</p><p>A comfortable silence fell over them.</p><p>“When this is over,” L’ara began suddenly “how’d you like to have dinner with me and my parents?” she asked, turning to smile shyly at him.</p><p>Brad smiled in reply and gently took her hand in his.</p><p>“I’d like that” he nodded.</p><p>“Good” she grinned.</p><p>“But first we have to find the sword” he reminded her.</p><p>“Right”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Morning Dawns</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're BACK!! Chapter EIGHTEEN of my original work "The Blade" is UP! So enjoy!! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>It was her phone ringing that woke L’ara.    Blinking and swiping at her eyes, she squinted at the small screen, scowling as she answered it.</p><p>“Hello, Lana” she grumbled.</p><p>“<em><strong>Goood morn-ing, campers!</strong></em>” Lana practically yelled over the phone.</p><p>“Ah! Geez!” yanking the phone away from her ear, L’ara cursed loudly and colorfully.</p><p>“<em>Ha! Finally!</em>” Lana crowed.</p><p>“Congratulations, you succeeded in giving me heart palpitations.   Happy now?” L’ara drawled “I think I liked you better when you were an insensitive racist” she grumbled.</p><p>“<em>Technically, I wasn’t a racist, I was just ignorant,</em>” Lana corrected “<em>there</em> is <em>a difference</em>”</p><p>“Been talking to Brad I see” L’ara noted, unable to keep the fond smile off her face.</p><p>“<em>Yeah,</em>” Lana murmured, and L’ara could hear the equal amount of affection in her voice as well “<em>you know, for someone who’s younger than either of us, he’s pretty knowledgeable</em>” she noted.</p><p>“Just don’t get into a discussion about politics or history with him,” L’ara warned “and whatever you do, <em>do not</em> try to debate philosophy with him.  He may not have a degree in philosophy, but he’ll still run circles around you nevertheless.      I swear he’s a reincarnation of Socrates or something”</p><p>“I <em>can</em> hear you” Brad grumbled from behind her.</p><p>Rolling over, she smirked at him but didn’t reply, instead absently reaching out with her free hand to softly stroke Brad’s hair as she put the phone on speaker.</p><p>“Lana, as much as I’m enjoying this back-and-forth, is there any particular reason for this call?”</p><p>“<em>Commonwealth Post</em> finally <em>came through,</em>” Lana explained “<em>anyway, according to the papers your Mountie buddy sent over, this ‘Gendi’ fellow has</em> definitely <em>got his hands in some deep pockets</em>”</p><p>“Joseph Carver” L’ara guessed.</p><p>“<em>Looks like,</em>” Lana agreed “<em>and from what your buddy tells me, he sounds like a real upstanding guy</em>”</p><p>“Who? Gendi or Carver?”</p><p>“<em>Both, I guess,</em>” Lana replied, and L’ara could hear her shrug over the line “<em>from what I’ve read about Carver, he sounds like the kind of guy who made my parents decide to leave Russia</em>”</p><p>“That bad?” L’ara asked.</p><p>“<em>The guy goes through employees like Tic-Tacs, and he makes them all sign these horribly complicated non-disclosure agreements,</em>” Lana exclaimed “<em>you’d think he was a defense contractor, not a newspaper owner</em>”</p><p>“E-mail what you have to me,” L’ara instructed “what else did you find out about this Gendi guy?”</p><p>“<em>Not much else,</em>” Lana explained “<em>apparently when he’s not charming the pants off politicians—</em>”</p><p>“Both literally and figuratively” Brad commented suddenly.</p><p>“<em>Yeah, no kidding,</em>” Lana chuckled, seemingly unsurprised at hearing Brad was there “<em>anyway, I</em> did <em>find out that he owns several nightclubs in Tokyo.   Apparently they’re where he does most of his so-called ‘business’ from</em>”</p><p>“All right,” sitting up, L’ara rooted around in her satchel, unearthing a notepad and a pencil “which ones should we check out?”</p><p>“<em>Not sure, but his biggest and most expensive one is a place called ‘Plastic-Plastic’—don’t ask me why it’s called that, I don’t know—anyway, it’s also his oldest and, apparently, favorite club</em>” Lana explained.</p><p>“Plastic-Plastic,” L’ara repeated, writing the name down “got it.   Anything else?”</p><p>“<em>Commonwealth Post decided to forward your ballot information to your office</em>”</p><p>“Ugh, put it with the rest of the mail,” L’ara groaned “what else?”</p><p>“<em>Dean whatshisname, Vogel has been looking for you,</em>” Lana explained “<em>won’t say why</em>”</p><p>“Ugh,” L’ara’s eyes all but rolled into the back of her skull at that bit of news “tell me I’ll get to him when I get back”</p><p>“<em>You’re the boss, boss</em>” Lana chuckled then, with a muted <em>click</em>, she hung up.</p><p>Flopping back onto the mattress, L’ara groaned loudly.</p><p>“Don’t look at me,” Brad grumbled, rolling over away from her “you’re the one who got us into this mess” he reminded her</p><p>“Yeah,” she mused “guess I did,” she popped her lips “still…we’re in this together”</p><p>“Says <em>you</em>”</p><p>Playfully scowling, L’ara grabbed his shirt sleeve, tugging him back over to face her.    Losing his composure, his face broke out into a grin and he quickly swooped in and planted a kiss on her nose, earning a rather sweet-sounding, girlish giggle from the Feline.</p><p>“C’mon,” she grinned, patting him on the shoulder “breakfast, then shower, and <em>then</em> we go…<em>clubbing</em>,” still grinning despite her scowl, she threw the covers off “call Yumi,” she added over her shoulder as she headed towards the bathroom, smirking as she felt Brad watching her tail swish behind her.</p><p>A loud rumbling <em>boom</em> from outside had her jumping.   Turning back, she braced herself for a fight, fists raised and ready to use as Brad got up out of bed and went over to the window, pulling the curtain back reveal the city now drenched in pouring rain, a few distant flashes of lightning lighting up the dark gray sky.</p><p>“Whew,” L’ara let out a slow breath “for a second there…”</p><p>“Yeah,” Brad nodded “me too”</p><p>“That settles it,” she declared “when this is over we’re going home and <em>staying</em> there for a long time”</p><p>“No complaints from me” Brad chuckled.</p><p>“Good,” she nodded “c’mon,” she gestured towards the bathroom “shower” she invited with a sly grin.</p><p>Grinning back in kind, Brad happily stripped down and followed her inside, shutting the door behind him as she set about brushing her teeth.   The sink—indeed the bathroom itself—was remarkably small, requiring the pair to practically stand atop one another.</p><p>Grabbing his own toothbrush, Brad managed to wedge himself in between L’ara and the wall and began to awkwardly brush his teeth, which due to the small confines of the room required holding his arm at an awkward angle lest he inadvertently elbow L’ara in the jaw.</p><p>L’ara herself didn’t seem so concerned and nearly took his ear off with her furious brushing, not to mention nearly caved his ribs in when she set about rinsing out her mouth.</p><p>Pulling back, she absently wiped her mouth and then sat down on the toilet.</p><p>“That’s disgusting” Brad exclaimed around his toothbrush.</p><p>“I’m only peeing,” she scoffed “look at this way, it was either do it now or do it in the shower” she declared.</p><p>Spitting, Brad rinsed out his own mouth.</p><p>“I didn’t think women peed in the shower” he remarked.</p><p>“Can’t speak for every woman,” she nodded “but we do,” flushing, she stood up, wiped, and then pulled back the shower curtain, the knobs squeaking loudly as the shower started up, putting her hand under the spray only to pull back with a yelp.</p><p>“Ay! That’s cold!” wincing, she shook out her hand, droplets of water flying every which way from her fur.   Checking again, she nodded in silent approval as Brad grabbed his shaving kit and pulled out the razor and a small can of shaving cream.   Shivering, he hopped into the shower after L’ara and tugged the curtain closed, edging past her to step under the spray.</p><p>“Why is this shower so small?”</p><p>“Because your average Japanese person is smaller than either one of us giant Americans” L’ara countered.   Chuckling at his sour expression, he gently plucked the can of shaving cream out of his hand “here” she said softly as she also took the razor from him and then gently cupped his chin, tilting his head up before spraying a liberal amount of shaving cream into her palm and then gently applying an even lather on his face.</p><p>“Thanks” Brad murmured.</p><p>“No problem” L’ara replied as she gently began to run the razor across his cheek, frowning when it didn’t seem to do anything.</p><p>“You have to take the cap off the blade first” Brad reminded her.</p><p>“Oh.   Right,” ears flattening atop her head in embarrassment, she quickly found the safety cap and pulled it off and set it aside “don’t shave, remember?” she chuckled.</p><p>“I did notice that, yes”</p><p>“Ha-ha” L’ara drawled as she moved the razor about, her movements gentle and measured, the only sounds now being the shower spray and the gentle rasp of the razor as she gently guided Brad’s head into the direction she wanted.    The whole act held an intimacy to it that in some ways went beyond sex.   Finally leaning back, L’ara nodded in silent approval as she pulled the razor back and rinsed it out under the spray before setting it aside in the soap dish.</p><p>“Thanks” Brad murmured softly.</p><p>“Sure” she nodded.</p><p>Pulling back, Brad reached for the shampoo, wincing as he got water in his eyes in the process.   Swiping at his face, he succeeded in grabbing hold of the bottle.   Realizing that he’d grabbed L’ara’s combination shampoo/body wash, he smirked at her and gestured for her to turn around.</p><p>Smirking in reply, L’ara did as instructed, blinking in surprise as Brad started, not on her shoulders as she expected, but at her tail.   Chuckling, she relaxed and let his hands gently work the suds into her fur…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Plastic-Plastic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter NINETEEN! Enjoy! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>After showering, the pair had ordered a nice breakfast from room service (during which L’ara once again complained about the price), before they had reluctantly headed out into the storm to the address that Lana had e-mailed them.    The directions to the mysterious Gendi’s club Plastic-Plastic took them back to Tokyo’s entertainment district <em>Kabuki-chō </em>, and even at nine AM in the morning and in the middle of a massive thunderstorm the place was still a busy hive of activity, people—both Humans and non-humans—moving to and fro in a mad, dizzying dance, seemingly unconcerned with the foul weather.</p><p>Inching closer towards L’ara, Brad hunched his shoulders tighter and tried to pull the umbrella over the both of them as they sidestepped several pedestrians and several puddles.</p><p>“I don’t believe this,” he exclaimed “its nine AM and these people are <em>still</em> out partying! Haven’t their hearts stopped yet?”</p><p>“Maybe they have and they’re zombies,” L’ara chuckled as she double-checked her phone “this is it” she nodded at the building to their right.</p><p>“Here?” Brad asked skeptically, peeking out from under the umbrella and looking between her and the building they now stood in front of.</p><p>“Apparently” L’ara shrugged.</p><p>The building they now found themselves standing in front of was non-descript, looking like any other office building in any other city in the world, it even lacked a large majority of the neon signs that seemed to adorn every other building in Tokyo.   In fact the only sign of any description on the building was what appeared to a directory on the wall just outside the door.     Most of the listings appeared to be for various businesses but one stood out.   It was written in bright, garishly-colored letters and was the only one written solely in English:</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <strong>PLASTIC-PLASTIC</strong>
  </p>
</div>Looking around for another entrance, the pair paused as Yumi silently walked up to them, nodding politely at them from under her own umbrella.<p>“So…what?” Brad asked after a moment’s silence.   He looked between both women “we just…go on in?” he wondered.</p><p>“Looks like,” L’ara shrugged.    Reaching out, she pulled the door open and pulled him through into a very modern and bland lobby.    Shaking off their respective umbrellas, the trio found another sign which bore the ‘plastic-plastic’ sign and an arrow which pointed down.   Grabbing hold of Brad’s sleeve, L’ara led him and Yumi through another door and followed a series of arrows down a steep narrow and dark flight of stairs to finally emerge onto a dancefloor filled to bursting with throngs of people.</p><p>“You were right, Brad,” L’ara remarked “apparently nobody <em>does</em> sleep in Tokyo”</p><p>The dancefloor was filled with people moving to a pounding, teeth-rattling, eardrum-bursting beat that rumbled up through the floor and into one’s very bones it seemed, while large tiles on the floor proper flashed a series of different colors in time with the music, as did the floodlights sweeping back and forth across the ceiling.   All in all when combined the whole effect made for an overstimulating sensory overload.</p><p>“I don’t think this is a place you should be in” Yumi suddenly remarked, having to lean in towards L’ara and Brad and raise her voice in order to be heard.</p><p>“Oh, please, I’ve been in worse” L’ara scoffed.</p><p>“I meant him” Yumi replied, nodding up at Brad.</p><p>“Hey!” Brad objected.</p><p>L’ara just chortled, giving him a playful nudge in the arm before her expression soured.</p><p>“All right, c’mon, let’s…<em>mingle</em>” she instructed, visibly sneering at the idea as she led the two into the club proper, passing some kind of invisible barrier that had apparently (as incredible as it seemed) <em>muted</em> the sound of the music.    Wincing, her ears flattening forwards atop her head in an attempt to block out the sound, L’ara maneuvered through the throng of bodies towards the bar, finding a set of (currently) unoccupied barstools.</p><p>“Why is this music so loud?” Brad asked her over the beat, having to yell slightly in order to be heard.</p><p>“Beats me,” L’ara replied “I’m an ‘80s kid, remember?”</p><p>“So what do we do now?” Brad asked.</p><p>L’ara shrugged and gestured vaguely towards the bar.</p><p>“Order something I guess” she explained.</p><p>As if on cue, the bartender came over and looked between the three questioningly.    Leaning forwards, Yumi gave him an order in Japanese, for what neither L’ara nor Brad knew exactly and weren’t sure that they wanted to know.    Swiveling his barstool around and leaning back against the edge of the bar, Brad looked around the club, suddenly feeling very old and out of touch with others in his age group.   If dancing for hours on end to loud music that could wake the dead and drinking enough alcohol to successfully embalm oneself was what passed for ‘fun’ for his generation than he had been born in the wrong decade.    Continuing on this line of thought, he leaned towards L’ara.</p><p>“Maybe I was just born in the wrong era or something,” he began “but I don’t think that this is much fun”</p><p>“Me neither,” she replied “remember that jazz club I took you to? Now <em>that’s</em> fun”</p><p>“Amen, sister,”</p><p>Grinning at each other, they both high-fived before Brad leaned in and gave her a chaste peck on the cheek.</p><p>“Let’s go there again” he suggested.</p><p>“Sure” L’ara nodded.</p><p>“Cool,” Brad nodded.    He looked around the bustling dancefloor “so, you see this ‘Gendi’ guy anywhere?” he wondered.</p><p>“Not yet” she replied.</p><p>“Are we even sure we know what this guy looks like?” he wondered “I mean, if he’s that big of a mover and shaker he probably doesn’t want his face plastered all over the place” he pointed out.</p><p>“Apparently he doesn’t care,” L’ara explained “he’s one of those rich types who like to be seen it seems”</p><p>“Oh one of <em>those</em>,” Brad nodded, his distaste clear “yippy” he drawled sarcastically</p><p>“Yep,” L’ara nodded “hey,” she tapped Brad’s shoulder and subtly pointed up at where there was a kind of loft area overlooking the main dancefloor, a series of mirrored windows giving the area had a distinct feeling of privacy to it; it was somewhere that only a select few were allowed to enter and woe to any who dared to trespass upon the sacred space.</p><p>“Ten bucks says that if he’s here he’s up there” L’ara continued.</p><p>“I’ll take that bet” Brad nodded.</p><p>“Likewise,” Yumi nodded “so, what do we…?” she trailed off as she looked around, suddenly realizing that L’ara and Brad were already headed towards the upper area.   Hurrying to catch up, she jogged across the crowded dancefloor, brushing past the tightly packed crowd.</p><p>Following closely behind L’ara, Brad edged past various people, hunching his shoulders tightly and holding his arms close to his body in an effort to not touch anyone.   Finally reaching L’ara, he came to join her at the bottom of the stairway leading up.    Looking around, the pair exchanged a confused look at the lack of any obvious guards or other form of security.</p><p>Shrugging, L’ara climbed up the steps and soon stopped at a door that bore a sign that she assumed read ‘private’, ‘staff only’ or the like.    Raising a hand, she knocked once, then, when no one answered, she tried the doorknob, finding it was—unsurprisingly—locked.    Glancing back at Brad, she gestured for him to stand guard as she dug her set of lock picks out of her satchel and quickly picked the lock.</p><p>Making sure that they weren’t being watched, she slowly pushed the door open.    Behind the door they found what looked like a small yet expensively furnished office.</p><p>“Guess Gendi does most of his work here” L’ara noted as she carefully shut the door behind them.    Looking around, they took in the modern, contrasting furnishings.</p><p>“<em>Nouveau riche</em>” Brad noted.</p><p>“What makes you say that?” L’ara wondered.</p><p>In answer, Brad gestured vaguely towards the room at large.</p><p>“Everything’s expensive and nothing matches” he shrugged.</p><p>L’ara just silently shrugged in reply as she rounded what looked like a coffee table, past an aquarium set into the wall, and towards a desk, suddenly stiffening.</p><p>“Brad?” she called.</p><p>Coming over, Brad froze as well as they took in the sight a body wedged in between the wall and desk.</p><p>“Gendi” Brad breathed.</p><p>“Yeah,” L’ara nodded as she crouched down and examined the corpse.    The cause of death was clearly the knife now embedded up to the hilt in his chest “he put up a fight,” L’ara noted, carefully keeping her hands off the body “he’s got blood under his fingernails” she pointed at his hands.</p><p>Brad crouched down and silently studied the body.</p><p>“Strange” he finally murmured.</p><p>“What is?” L’ara asked.</p><p>“Just…,” he shook his head “this used to be a living, breathing person, and now…” he trailed off, shaking his head.</p><p>L’ara gently rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.</p><p>“Not everybody deals with dead bodies well,” she told him “especially since your first dead body was that dead Canine back in Mexico with the missing eye”</p><p>“Thanks for the reminder,” Brad drawled.    Looking back at the body, he pointed “looks like someone wanted something on his arm”</p><p>“Hmm,” L’ara leaned in, frowning “good eye.    A watch maybe? Bracelet?”</p><p>“I don’t see a watch anywhere around here” Brad noted “deal gone wrong?” he suggested “the killer decided to take whatever looked valuable?”</p><p>“Maybe,” L’ara nodded “still, given the fact that the net worth of most of Gendi’s clientele is bigger than that of most small nations, I don’t really see any of them stooping to robbery, living or dead”</p><p>“What if….he had something hidden in his watch?” Brad suggested “like, I don’t know, a microchip with a list of names of all his clients or something?”</p><p>“You’ve been watching too many Bond movies,” L’ara drawled “still, it’s possible,” she allowed “I mean, they don’t call them ‘microchips’ for nothing.   And you don’t get far in this kind of business without having blackmail material for backup,” she stood up “come on, let’s leave him for the cops and scram”</p><p>Moving around the desk, they both froze as the door suddenly swung open, two men in expensive suits now blocking the only way out, and each man was visibly armed.</p><p>Sighing as he slowly held up his hands, Brad turned to L’ara.</p><p>“You got us into this” he muttered.</p><p>“I did, yep” she nodded…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Guardians</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're BACK! Chapter TWENTY of my original work, "The Blade" is up! So enjoy! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>The two Human men that now stood opposite L’ara and Brad were each wearing an hand-tailored suit that was probably worth twice as much as L’ara and Brad’s combined salaries before taxes, but the far more interesting trait of their attire—not to mention urgent—were the two MAC-10 submachine pistols that they both held, both weapons trained on L’ara and Brad.</p><p>Giving his gun a slight jerk, one goon grunted, nodding towards the door.</p><p>Exchanging a nervous look, L’ara and Brad silently agreed that going with the goons was the best option.    With the barrels of both weapons each pressing into their spines, the pair were led out of the office and back down onto the dancefloor through the completely unobservant crowd and out a back door to where a sleek town car awaited.</p><p>“Inside” one goon ordered.</p><p>Climbing into the backseat, L’ara and Brad were both handcuffed to one another by the two goons as they climbed in on either side of the pair before one gave the driver a silent signal to go…</p><p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>Neither L’ara nor Brad was blindfolded, and the windows of the car were not blacked out or otherwise tinted, allowing them a full view of the journey.   The car merged with the late-morning traffic, moving out of Tokyo’s entertainment district and into what looked like the business district of the city, the car having to slow and navigate the heavy traffic of both people and cars that buzzed about in the dozens if not hundreds or thousands.</p><p>“This is nice” Brad suddenly remarked for want of something to break the tension.</p><p>“More or less,” L’ara remarked, scowling as she held up their cuffed hands “I’m not into bondage”</p><p>“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it” Brad shrugged.</p><p>Ears standing straight up, L’ara stared at him, letting out a disbelieving laugh as he winked at her.</p><p>“I don’t get paid enough for this” one goon suddenly muttered disgustedly as the car pulled into a parking garage and slid into an empty space in what was clearly a reserved area of the garage.     Getting out, the two goons tugged L’ara and Brad out, L’ara suddenly stumbling.    Scowling, the goon holding her arm tightened his grip and yanked her back upright, causing both her and Brad to stumble in the opposite direction.</p><p>“Nice try,” the goon remarked, shoving her towards the elevator “move” he ordered.</p><p>“Worth a try” Brad whispered as the foursome entered the elevator, Goon One pressing for what looked like the top floor of wherever they were.     For a moment the elevator was silent save for the quiet humming of the motors and then, once the doors slid open with the familiar <em>ding</em>, L’ara and Brad were led out into a bright and pristine white hallway.</p><p>Classical music softly sang out from hidden speakers as they were led past various forms of fine art on either side.   Framed paintings by the old masters adorned the walls, hanging over Greek sculptures.</p><p>“Where the hell are we?” Brad hissed.</p><p>“I have no idea,” L’ara drawled “where’s Yumi, that’s what I want to know”</p><p>“I don’t know” Brad replied worriedly, frowning as they passed a large glass sign on the wall.    The lettering adorning the sign was in both English and Japanese, and while the Japanese text was indecipherable to them both, the English lettering wasn’t.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <strong>CARVER WORLDWIDE MEDIA GROUP</strong>
  </p>
</div><p>“Gee, why doesn’t that surprise me?” L’ara drawled as they reached a set of wide double doors which opened automatically as they neared their perimeter.    Inside the pair found themselves in a large, modern office.    Large floor-to-ceiling windows made up two whole walls, forming an L shape around the lone desk that sat in the center of the room alongside a large aquarium, but what caught both L’ara and Brad’s attention were the various pieces of fine art that occupied a series of display cases.   Unlike those in the corridor behind them, these pieces were all secured behind thick glass with both the top and bottom of the display case extending from floor to ceiling, made to look like they were a part of the structure of the building itself.

</p><p>“Lovely, aren’t they?” a man’s voice suddenly asked.    Turning, the pair watched as older man stepped out of the shadows.   He was a Canine, thin and wiry, almost stick-like, his fur was clearly thinning in certain places and was almost-completely grey, a pair of wireframe glasses nearly perched on his nose.</p><p>Rounding the pair, he examined them in much the same way that L’ara and Brad examined ancient artifacts.</p><p>“Professor L’ara Rhys,” he finally remarked “I must say that your reputation precedes you,” he gestured to the goons “you can take those off,” he ordered.</p><p>Silently, the goons swiftly uncuffed the pair and then slid back into the shadows, clearly still there but out of view as Joseph Carver settled down behind his desk and gestured for L’ara and Brad to sit down in the two chairs across the desk from him.</p><p>“Please, by all means,” he invited.</p><p>Sharing an uneasy look, both L’ara and Brad remained standing, much to Carver’s clear disappointment.</p><p>“All right,” he dismissed “have it your way.   Now then, onto business—”</p><p>“Is that what we’re calling it?” L’ara interrupted “because I don’t see a business here” she gestured towards the room at large as she crossed over to the display cases.</p><p>“Oh?” Carver leaned back in his chair “and, pray tell, what <em>do</em> you see, Professor?”</p><p>“A thief,” L’ara stated.   She nodded to one of the cases which held a tall alabaster urn “Sumerian, 3000 BC give or take, right?”</p><p>“Yes, very good eye” Carver.</p><p>“Funny,” L’ara chuckled “I could have sworn that an urn just like this was one was stolen when the National Museum of Iraq was looted after UC forces invaded during the start of the Iraqi War”</p><p>“You’re absolutely right, Professor,” Carver nodded, standing up and coming over “it passed from one unscrupulous black market dealer to another before it finally reached me”</p><p>“And, instead of returning it to its rightful place, you kept it for yourself” L’ara scoffed.</p><p>“No, no,” Carver shook his head “you see, you misunderstand my intentions here, Professor.    Museums and art galleries are…too public, too open, you may as well as paint a giant sign over the front doors saying ‘rob me’ in bold letters.   Add to that, most people who visit these institutions can never truly <em>appreciate</em> works such as these”</p><p>“Oh, I see, so you’re a ‘heroic’ thief, is that it?” L’ara scoffed “Brad, look at this, got ourselves a real-life Robin Hood”</p><p>“Yeah, and I’m Marilyn Monroe” Brad scoffed.</p><p>“You’re a thief, Carver,” L’ara stated “now the real question is, why are we here?”</p><p>Carver stared at her, clearly wondering why she couldn’t see things his way.</p><p>“All right then,” he nodded “very well.    You and your….associate are both here because I know that you’re both in Japan searching for the Honjo Masamune.    I want it”</p><p>“Yeah…,” L’ara said slowly “can I take ‘not a snowball’s chance in hell’ for three hundred, Alex”</p><p>“Come now, Professor, be reasonable”</p><p>“<em>‘Reasonable’</em>?!” L’ara laughed “he wants us to be ‘reasonable’, Brad”</p><p>“What if we’re not ‘reasonable’?” Brad challenged “we going to end of like your pal Gendi?”</p><p>“Gendi,” Carver scowled “that, lowlife, cheating, scum.    He already crossed a line when he stabbed that Professor, and then the….<em>bastard</em> had the gall to try and <em>blackmail</em> me,” his scowl deepened “me! Joseph Carver!”</p><p>“So you had him killed and then stole his black list” L’ara guessed.</p><p>“The world is better off without people like him,” Carver declared haughtily “now,” he seemed to regain his composure somewhat “I <em>want</em> that sword and you two are going to find it for me!”</p><p>L’ara and Brad both crossed their arms in clear defiance.</p><p>“No” L’ara stated.</p><p>Snarling, Carver stood up, marching forwards until he was less than a hair’s breadth from L’ara.</p><p>“Do you know who I am?!” he growled.</p><p>“Yeah,” L’ara nodded, not flinching in the least at his proximity “you’re a small…tiny…little…<em>runt</em> who can only feel big and important when he’s lording his wealth over other people”</p><p>Carver visibly seethed, and looked about ready to scream at his guards to put them both into Tokyo Bay wearing concrete shoes when the whole building suddenly shook, a tremor rippling up through the floor as the doors to the office suddenly <em>exploded</em> open, each door flying across the room to hit each goon, sending them catapulting across the room to land in an undignified sprawl.</p><p>Standing in the door way itself was Yumi.   Marching forwards, she calmly crossed across the floor towards the pair.</p><p>“Professor Rhys, Mr. Jones” she acknowledged politely.</p><p>“Hi” both L’ara and Brad replied, too stupefied to say anything else.</p><p>“Get your damn hands up!”</p><p>The trio looked over to see that Carver was now holding a gun.   Thumbing back the hammer, he fired off a single shot.</p><p>Unflinching, Yumi calmly exhaled, a visible gust of icy cold air flowing from her lips towards Carver’s gun, causing him to yelp in clear pain and drop the weapon, ice already covering its surface as it clattered to the desk.   Still unnervingly calm, Yumi crossed over towards Carver’s collection, tilting her head as she studied two sets of full samurai armor.</p><p>At a snap of her fingers, the two sets of armor swiftly animated, both smashing out of their cases, poleaxes at the ready as they each thrust the blades at Carver’s throat, holding him at bay.</p><p>Turning back to L’ara and Brad, Yumi’s movements suddenly became more urgent as she swiftly pulled them both to their feet.</p><p>“That magic won’t hold for long,” she said “we need to go”</p><p>“Fine by me” L’ara panted out as footsteps pounded along the corridor outside, more of Carver’s security storming in.    Turning, the two animated suits of armor swiftly launched into battle, slicing through the security with frightening ease.</p><p>“Any idea of how we’re going to get out of here?!” Brad demanded over the maelstrom of shouts and screams and gunfire.</p><p>Looking around, Yumi spotted Carver’s aquarium.    Holding out a hand towards it, she narrowed her eyes, the glass suddenly and easily shattering, water spilling out in a great geyser before suddenly arcing upwards as if it had a mind of its own, forming a wide, circular portal.</p><p>Taking the hint, L’ara and Brad jumped through it, both landing in babbling stream.    Looking up they found that they were now in a heavily wooded area, the sounds of birdsong and the wind gently rustling through the trees a stark contrast to the chaos of the Carver’s office.</p><p>“OK, can somebody <em>please</em> explain to me just what the <em>fuck is going on</em>?!” L’ara demanded, rounding on Yumi who calmly stood up to her knees in the stream.</p><p>Smirking at L’ara’s outburst, Yumi gently tilted her head back, spreading her arms wide as she allowed herself to fall back, disappearing under the water with a muted splash to disappear from sight.</p><p>“What…?” Brad looked towards L’ara in equal amounts of confusion as an icy mist began to rise from the stream, growing thicker and heavier as it swirled around the pair, completely enveloping them in a matter of moments.</p><p>Suddenly, a large pair of gleaming yellow-green eyes peered out at them from the mist just before a large serpentine form suddenly shot past them, the mist vanishing as swiftly as it came to reveal a large serpent now floating above them, its long body twisted and curled in the air with a fluidity and grace that no normal creature could ever achieve as its bright yellow scales glinted in the sunlight, somehow remaining aloft without the benefit of wings.</p><p>“<em><strong>I am a guardian,</strong></em>” the being proclaimed in a booming, yet still oddly feminine, voice “<em><strong>for over a thousand years, since long before you, as our brethren in the west were hunted to extinction, we remained, honored as keepers and preservers of knowledge and wisdom</strong></em>”</p><p>The being suddenly shot high into the air, arcing over L’ara and Brad with a clear amount of glee.</p><p>“<em><strong>Here we are called</strong></em> tatsu,” the creature continued “<em><strong>but to you, we are known as…dragons</strong></em>”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>in 2003, following the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq, the National Museum of Iraq was abandoned by its staff and subsequently looted, with some 15,000 cultural artifacts disappearing.  Over the years, approximately 14,800 artifacts have been recovered from both within and outside Iraq and taken under the protection of the Iraqi government.</p><p>Among the most significant items to be stolen is a Sumerian urn dating from roughly 3000 BC.   Known as the "Warka Vase" or "Warka Urn", it stands at an impressive one meter tall and is covered in reliefs depicting men carrying foodstuffs, scenes of plant and animal life, and finally a depiction of the Sumerian goddess Inanna, dating from 3200 to 3000 BC it is one of the earliest surviving example of relief carving.</p><p>When the urn was stolen from the museum on April, 2003 it was pulled from its stand and broke into at least two pieces, with the bottom half remaining on the stand.   Thankfully, on June 12th of that same year, three unidentified men returned the urn--now broken into fourteen pieces--to the museum in exchange for an amnesty, where the museum vowed to restore it.    Now fully restored the urn is back on display at the museum.</p><p>The Military Armament Corporation Model 10--commonly known as the MAC-10--submachine pistol is one of the only weapons to be explicitly listed by name on the U.S.'s 1994 Public Safety and Recreational Firearms Use Protection Act (itself a subsection of the Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act of 1994).   The weapon was banned because failed to meet three of the ban's requirements:</p><p>1): A semi-automatic version of an automatic firearm,<br/>2): A manufactured weight of 50 ounces (1.4 kg) or more when the pistol is unloaded. The MAC-10 weighs 100.16 oz (2.84 kg), and<br/>3): A threaded barrel to attach barrel extender, flash suppressor, handgrip, or suppressor</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Spirit & Power</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're BACK! Chapter TWENTY-ONE of my original work "The Blade" is up! Enjoy! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>The water flowing through the stream was crisp and cool to the touch, almost freezing in fact.    Splashing some of the water on here face, L’ara shivered as she let the water run down her cheeks and chin.   Swiping at her now-damp fur she sat back on her heels with a tired sigh.   It wasn’t even noon yet but she already felt like she’d run a marathon.</p><p>Brushing what she strongly suspected were shards of glass out of her fur, she stretched out fully, lying down in the soft cool moss that coated the forest floor, shifting slightly as she found herself lying on top of a rock.    Reaching out, she tugged Brad down to lay down beside her.   Laying her head back, L’ara found herself looking up at the sunlight twinkling through the canopy, the wind gently rustling the lighter branches.</p><p>All in all it was a quiet peaceful setting, perfect to unwind and relax; L’ara could easily imagine herself and Brad gathering here for a picnic.    But L’ara couldn’t relax, her gaze being drawn to where Yumi—or whatever her name really was—sat perched on a large rock, silently watching them, seemingly patiently waiting for them to make the first move.</p><p>L’ara wasn’t sure what to make of her now, dragons were almost universally thought to have been extinct, even in places like Asia where they were revered rather than feared.   The rapid industrialization of Asia during the nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries had been believed to have driven those few dragons that remained into the annuals of history, reduced to museum exhibits like the dinosaurs millions of years before them.   An entire sentient species erased from the face of the earth.</p><p>Sighing heavily, L’ara let her head drop back onto the soft moss beneath her.</p><p>“So now what?” she asked, not really sure who she was speaking to.</p><p>“We find the sword” Yumi stated.</p><p>“What’s your interest here?” L’ara wondered.</p><p>“As I said, I’m a guardian,” Yumi replied “the sword has a power to it,” she explained “power enough to change the course of nations.   It must not be held by someone like Joseph Carver”</p><p>“No argument there,” Brad nodded “but, I think she means, what are you planning on doing with it?” he pressed.</p><p>“I’m not sure yet,” Yumi admitted “that’s up to the sword itself to decide”</p><p>Brad looked towards L’ara, confused.</p><p>“Swords have a spirit, Mr. Jones,” Yumi explained “look at Excalibur from your own history.   It could only welded by the true King of England”</p><p>“The same rule applies to the Honjo Masamune then?” L’ara guessed.</p><p>“Precisely” Yumi nodded.</p><p>Clearly still confused, Brad visibly dismissed that line of thought and instead asked.</p><p>“Where are we, anyway?”</p><p>“Nowhere important,” Yumi answered with a shrug, nimbly hopping off her perch “shall we?”</p><p>Grunting and groaning with stiff and achy joints, L’ara awkwardly climbed to her feet, giving Brad a light smack on the side with her tail as she did so to get him up as well.   Grumbling as her tail smacked him, Brad also got up, wincing as well.</p><p>Landing in the stream with a muted splash, Yumi held out a hand over the water, a small geyser shooting up from its surface to form another portal.</p><p>“What do we call you now?” L’ara wondered, glancing at the dragon.</p><p>The dragon turned back</p><p>“Yumi” was the stern reply…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Heart Lines</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're BACK! That's right! Chapter TWENTY-TWO of my original work "The Blade" is up! So enjoy! :=)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>The portal led to an alleyway of some sort.    Looking around, L’ara frowned, turning back to Yumi.</p><p>“Your hotel is no longer safe,” the dragon (dragoness?) explained “you can find a place to stay there, down that street,” she continued, pointing “I’ll bring your things by later” she explained.   Then turning on her heel, she slipped back through the portal and vanished, the portal sealing shut behind her, dispersing as a series of puddles littering the uneven pavement of the alleyway.</p><p>Cautiously reaching out with one foot, Brad gently tapped one puddle, frowning suspiciously when nothing happened.     Looking up at L’ara, he nodded towards where the portal had been just seconds ago.</p><p>“Why couldn’t we have gotten to Japan that way?” he wondered mildly.</p><p>L’ara snorted.</p><p>“You know how many spellcasters it would take to generate that much power on that scale?” she asked rhetorically “let alone to do it on an international scale day in and day out,” shrugging, she sighed “come on” she beckoned him along, leading him out into the alleyway and down a side street as Yumi had indicated, finding a narrow, short street lined on both sides with equally narrow squat multistory buildings, all of which seemed to be hotels.</p><p>Stopping at one, L’ara looked up at the sign, putting her hands on her hips and popping her lips as she read words on said sign.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <strong>Hotel Starry Light</strong>
  </p>
</div><p>The words were a bright green and were framed by a pink neon heart and blinking yellow stars, with a smaller set of letters advertising rooms for ‘rest’ in both Japanese and English.</p><p>“O…K” Brad said slowly.</p><p>“It’s a love hotel” L’ara grumbled, her tail arcing up in a clear sign of disquiet.</p><p>“A wha…oh,” Brad, now a very interesting shade of red, nodded in silent understanding “don’t we something like this back home?” he wondered.</p><p>“Yeah,” L’ara nodded with a shrug “<em>‘no-tell motels’</em> we call ‘em back home” she explained distractedly, squinting at the sign on the wall which seemed to be a listing of the rates and prices of the rooms.   Straightening up, she nodded, pulling the door open, looking back at Brad with a bit of a rueful smirk and shrugged.</p><p>Following her inside, the pair found themselves in a small, neat and tidy lobby that was seemingly empty aside from an old Labrador retriever resting in a comfy-looking basket, who—without lifting his (or her) head—gave the pair a surprisingly suspicious look as they approached the front desk, which was blocked off from the rest of the lobby almost entirely aside from a small slot that was just wide enough to reach one’s hand through.</p><p>On the wall next to the front desk was a large board which seemed to indicate which rooms were occupied and which were vacant via an illuminated button along with two sets of prices, one for ‘rest’ (which appeared to be by the hour) and one for ‘stay’ (which appeared to be for longer periods, presumably for the night).   Shrugging, L’ara pressed the button for the first vacant room she saw, a quiet, muffled <em>buzz</em> sounding out from somewhere behind the desk, shadowed movement being visible through the narrow slot moments later before a pair of Human hands slid a metal tray out.</p><p>Guessing that was her cue to pay, L’ara dug through her satchel, unearthing some of the petty cash she’d been carrying since they first arrived in Japan days ago.   Counting out what she hoped was enough for the rest of the day; she deposited the bills into the tray and slid it back.   The quiet click of a keyboard echoed out for a moment before the tray was slid out again, a key and a receipt neatly resting within.</p><p>Scooping it up, L’ara called out a quiet <em>domo arigato</em> and then led Brad towards the elevator and up to the second floor, the pair seeing absolutely no one else as they found the appropriate room and slipped inside.   The room was plain and neat and tidy, with a large, king-sized bed, a large flat screen TV, and a door that presumably led to a bathroom.</p><p>Making his way towards this door, Brad peered inside.</p><p>“Whoa!” he exclaimed “the tub’s huge!” he grinned.</p><p>Coming over, L’ara peered past him, grinning as she took in the Jacuzzi tub that was more than big enough for the both of them to stretch out in, it even looked big enough to have room to spare.</p><p>Looking towards Brad, L’ara grinned.</p><p>“I don’t know about you, but I know what I’m doing first,” she laughed, already stripping off her damp sneakers and socks, Brad following suit as she fiddled with the knobs for a moment, the tub rapidly filling with steaming water.   By the time that Brad had his jeans off, L’ara had already stripped down to her fur and sank into the water with a <em>deep</em>, long, drawn out groan of relief.</p><p>Finally achieving victory in the wrestling match he’d been having with his wet sock, Brad wobbled slightly, catching himself on the edge of the tub before he finished up removing the other sock and then climbed into the tub alongside L’ara, also groaning in pleasure as he sank beneath the water.</p><p>“Uh-huh” L’ara grinned, stretching out, her tail and toes briefly popping up out of the water before disappearing back under.</p><p>“Hey,” Brad prompted “how much control do you have over your tail exactly?”</p><p>L’ara looked up, clearly surprised by the non-sequitur.</p><p>“It varies,” she admitted “I suppose it’s kind of like…blinking, I guess? Most of the time its unconscious, the thing moves on its own practically, and half the time I don’t even really notice what it’s doing unless I get it caught in a door or somebody steps on it.   Which, before you ask, yes, that happens to every non-human at least once in their lives, especially to toddlers or little kids; it’s practically a rite of passage.   But, anyway, aside from that, I have as much control over it as you have over…,” she trailed off, frowning “I guess your…toes would be the closest thing I can think of?” she shrugged.</p><p>Pushing off her side of the tub, she lazily curled up to his side.</p><p>“Why do you ask?” she wondered.</p><p>“Just curious,” he shrugged “I don’t have a tail,” he reminded her “so it’s a completely foreign concept to me”</p><p>“I can’t imagine not having a tail,” L’ara admitted “I mean, sure this thing is annoying at times, but, I mean, it’s…a part of me,” she explained, lifting her tail up and out of the water, bringing it in close to study it intently before shaking her head “nope, can’t imagine it,” she declared.</p><p>Relaxing the appendage and letting it gently drop down into the water, she lazily looked around the tub, spotting several bottles of shampoo and body wash.   Squinting at the labels, she grinned as she saw that they were both for Humans and non-humans.   Snagging one, she uncapped it and give it a little sniff.</p><p>“Here,” she beckoned Brad over, motioning for him to duck down, quickly scooping some water up with both hands to wet his hair.    Letting him straighten up, she held out the bottle for his approval.    Giving the open bottle a sniff, Brad smiled and nodded.    Nodding back, L’ara quickly poured some of the shampoo into her palm, using her other hand to gently ease Brad’s head down as she floated around behind him and began to gently work the shampoo into his hair, working up a nice lather, softly humming as she did so.</p><p>“Close your eyes” she instructed softly.</p><p>Nodding in understanding, Brad squeezed his eyes shut and ducked his head under the water, popping back up a few seconds later with a muted gasp for air, allowing L’ara to scoop some more water onto his head and shoulders to get any suds that may have decided to stick around.    Reaching up and feeling his hair, Brad nodded in silent approval.</p><p>Smirking at each other, they switched places, he now behind her.   Taking the bottle from her, he began to work the suds into her fur…</p><p>
  <strong>**</strong>
</p><p>The warm water couldn’t last forever sadly.     Rinsing off any lingering suds in the attached shower, the pair had climbed out, gathering up their drier—but still somewhat damp—clothes, and moved into the bedroom.    Forgoing getting dressed for the moment, L’ara wrapped up in a towel and bounced down onto the bed, grinning as she did.</p><p>Scrubbing furiously at her fur, she peeked out at Brad, feeling somewhat envious of his furless state.    She wasn’t an expert obviously, but she was pretty certain that he didn’t need half as much time to dry off as she did.</p><p>Already slipping into his boxer-briefs, Brad grabbed his t-shirt and joined her on the bed.</p><p>“I’d ask if you wanted to watch some TV, but I’m honestly afraid of what I’d find” L’ara remarked.</p><p>“Yeah,” Brad nodded “I’ve seen what Japan does for porn.      I think we’re better off” he decided, lying down beside her and stretching out his arms with a deep groan and a series of satisfying <em>pops</em>.</p><p>As he relaxed, L’ara propped herself up on one elbow, turning to look at him.</p><p>“How…<em>exactly</em> do you know what Japanese porn looks like?” she asked.</p><p>Brad shifted, matching her pose and turning to look at her in reply.</p><p>“How do <em>you</em>?” he countered.</p><p>The Feline chuckled, her ears folding back in embarrassment.</p><p>“Touché,” she chuckled, ducking her head “guess we both know the answer to that question” she admitted.</p><p>“Guess so” Brad nodded, grinning slyly at her.</p><p>“Hey, you started it,” she accused “remember? Back in the car with that bondage joke?” she reminded him.</p><p>“Hmm, so I did” Brad acknowledged with an exaggerated nod.</p><p>“Hey,” L’ara began “but, were you being serious back there?” she wondered “about the bondage thing I mean” she clarified.</p><p>Brad turned to her, smirking, but before he could answer one of their phones rang.     Grumbling, L’ara leaned over the bed and grabbed her satchel, pulling it up onto the bed and unearthing the phone, answering it.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“<em><strong><span class="u">WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU?!??!?!</span></strong></em>”</p><p>Wincing, L’ara yanked the phone away from her ear and held it out and away from her at arms’ length as Lana continued to loudly and colorfully berate her from across the Pacific Ocean.</p><p>“<em>…hours! I’ve been trying to reach you for hours!!!!</em>” she raged “<em>I was halfway to start calling the goddamn fucking</em> morgue!!!”</p><p>“ALL RIGHT!!!” L’ara interrupted.    Taking a sharp breath, she held it and slowly exhaled “OK,” she began, putting the phone on speaker “now.   Let’s try that again”</p><p>“<em>Your mother called,</em>” Lana explained, sounding a more than a little out of breath “<em>when she couldn’t reach you she called here,</em>” she sighed heavily “<em>your Dad’s in the hospital,</em>” she explained.</p><p>L’ara went still, her face going slack.</p><p>“<em>He’s fine,</em>” Lana hurried to assure her “<em>apparently whatever happened they caught it in time, but they’re keeping him overnight for observation</em>” she explained “<em>L’ara?</em>” she asked, and when the other woman didn’t respond, Brad gently took the phone from her.</p><p>“Lana? It’s Brad, do you know what happened?”</p><p>“<em>No, not any of the details,</em>” Lana explained “<em>her Mom didn’t say,</em>” she paused “<em>how she’s taking it?</em>” she asked.</p><p>Brad frowned at L’ara.</p><p>“I’ll let you know” he muttered.</p><p>Hanging up, he gently set the phone aside and tentatively reached for L’ara who remained as still as a statute.   Slowly blinking as Brad’s hands came to rest on her shoulder her fur visibly bristled and she quickly reached past him for the phone.</p><p>“I…I need to call Mom,” she muttered, already dialing “Mom?” she asked.    As Brad watched, she slowly exhaled, sagging back against the pillows in clear relief “oh, Goddess shines eternal,” she breathed.   Glancing over at Brad, she gave him a weak smile and a thumbs up, which he returned, quietly shuffling to the side to try and give her some privacy only to be stopped as she suddenly gripped his arm tightly.</p><p>Looking down on the white-knuckle grip she had on his arm, he gently rested his hand atop hers, squeezing back as she tugged him close, curling around him and holding him tightly as she continued talking to her mother.</p><p>“Well what happened? Was it the arrest a few days ago? Oh.    I see,” she sighed heavily “we keep telling him to eat less fatty meat,” she grumbled “how’s he doing?” a weak, but growing smile crossed her face “heh, that sounds like him.    What the nurse do? Ha! Oh! That’s rich!” she laughed, a slight laugh, but a genuine one nonetheless “you got the hospital number?”</p><p>At these words, Brad grabbed her satchel and dug a notebook and pen out, handing them to her without a word.</p><p>“Right,” shifting the phone to her shoulder and keeping her arms wrapped around Brad’s shoulders she wrote down the hospital phone number “OK, thanks, Mom.    And, I’m on the list? Great.   Huh? Oh, yeah, he’s here,” she pulled the phone away from her ear “she wants to talk to you” she said, holding the device out to Brad.</p><p>Frowning in clear confusion, Brad nevertheless took the phone from her.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“<em>Mr. Jones?</em>” the voice of C’ana ‘Connie’ Rhys sounded nothing like the jovial, spunky woman that Brad had previously met, now she sounded strained and hoarse, as if she had had a good cry beforehand which she probably had.</p><p>“Mrs. Rhys,” Brad acknowledged “I just heard, I’m <em>so</em> sorry”</p><p>“<em>Thank you, dear,</em>” she sniffled “<em>but that’s not why I want to speak to you.    See, right now is the big test, this is the one that’ll prove your mettle</em>” she explained.</p><p>“I’m sorry?” Brad asked, confused.</p><p>C’ana took a breath, sniffling again before she answered.</p><p>“<em>If you’re only interested in a summer fling then I suggest you bail out now,</em>” she explained “<em>but…if you’re serious about this, then…</em>” she trailed off.</p><p>“I understand,” Brad nodded even though she couldn’t see him “you have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Rhys” he explained, tugging L’ara closer.</p><p>“<em>Good,</em>” C’ana replied, the relief clear in her voice “<em>that’s very good,</em>” she declared “<em>well, I should let you go now,</em>” she decided “<em>but I’d like to say goodbye to L’ara first</em>”</p><p>“Of course” as Brad moved to give the phone back to L’ara he stopped as C’ana called out to him again.</p><p>“<em>Oh, and Mr. Jones?</em>”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“<em>I think you can call me ‘Connie’ now</em>” she chuckled.</p><p>Smiling softly at the statement, Brad chuckled.</p><p>“Of course, Connie” he replied softly, handing the phone back to L’ara where she and her mother talked for a bit more and then said their goodbyes.   Hanging up, L’ara sighed and slumped against Brad’s shoulder, slowly exhaling a long, shuddering breath.</p><p>“I’m going to kill him” she suddenly growled out.</p><p>“Huh?” Brad asked.</p><p>“Dad,” she stated “I’m going to fucking <em>throttle</em> him for this!” suddenly pulling away from Brad she got up and began frantically pacing the length of the room “goddess! The man’s doctor <em>told</em> him that something was wrong but he didn’t tell either me <em>or</em> Mom! No! Because he didn’t want to ‘worry’ us! Fucking Christ! That is <em>so</em> like a man! Never wants to show weakness! Never wants to admit that anything’s wrong!”</p><p>Getting up, Brad came over to her and gently took her by the shoulders, watching as she suddenly sagged against him, slumping against him.    She didn’t cry, that wasn’t in her nature, but Brad could feel her tears on his shoulder nonetheless.    Holding her close, he softly rubbed circles along her back, fingers rasping through her damp fur as she took several deep, shuddering breaths.</p><p>Sniffling, she pulled away, absently wiping at her eyes.</p><p>“Do you want to call him?” Brad asked.</p><p>“Yeah,” she nodded “let’s give it a shot,” settling back down on the bed again, she grabbed her phone and dialed the number that C’ana had given her “yes, can you connect me to the fourth floor, please? Thank you,” as the call connected she reached out, gripping Brad’s hand as he took hers “yes, can I speak to R’ini Rhys please?” she asked “I’m his daughter, L’ara Rhys.     Oh, I see, of course.    Uh, yes, could you just tell him that I called and for him to call me back as soon as he can? Yes, thank you,” hanging up, she shook her head “after visiting hours” she explained.</p><p>Brad nodded in silent understanding, pulling her closer.</p><p>“What happened exactly?” he wondered.</p><p>“Atherosclerosis,” she sighed “they caught it in time though,” she continued “apparently Dad’s doctor decided to take some preemptive action when Dad decided to ‘wait and see’.”</p><p>“Good for them”</p><p>“Yeah.   Remind me to buy him a Ferrari” L’ara snorted.</p><p>“You OK?” Brad asked softly.</p><p>“No,” she admitted “but…I will be,” she sighed “and,” she perked up a bit “thanks to Joseph Carver I now have someone to take my frustrations out on”</p><p>“Why does that not surprise me?” Brad chuckled, pulling her close….</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Love hotels" are by the hour hotels set up primarily for the purpose of allowing couples some 'alone time' as well as for prostitutes and their clients , but they've also just as popular with tourists who prefer the cheaper rates or travelers who just need a place to crash for the night.    The name comes for the 'Hotel Love' which first opened up in Osaka in 1968 and had a large rotating sign.   Although cheap, hourly stay hotels exist worldwide the term 'love hotel' is often used to describe the set up in Japan, and their distinguished by a high level of discretion, oftentimes booking and paying for a room is done from behind frosted glass, or through an ATM or even pneumatic tube system.    Love hotels also stand out due their garish architecture, with buildings shaped like castles, UFOs, boats, et cetera with bright neon signs.    But some of the newer ones (especially those built in 1984 and after when love hotels came under control of the police to combat prostitution) may look like ordinary buildings with no windows, this is an attempt to avoid being publically seen as a love hotel.</p><p>The whole idea started in the postwar era, as Japan was rebuilding there was a housing shortage, as such young, newly married couples or even just couples who were going steady often had to live with relatives, often one of the couple's parents, which would make the idea of lovemaking utterly unthinkable for fear of embarrassment.   As such the idea of a cheap, by the hour hotel quickly caught on.</p><p>Love hotels are also found in South Korea and Thailand.    In 2019 a Japanese style love hotel opened up in Toronto, Canada as a temporary project.</p><p>Atherosclerosis is the leading causing of heart attack and stroke and the number one cause of death and disability in the developed world.    While the exact cause is still unknown its typically caused by a buildup of atheromatous plaque which is usually composed of a combination of white blood cells, lipids, calcium buildup, and other debris.   This debris builds up on the artery walls and causes the artery to swell and thus narrow, restricting blood flow which can lead to heart attack, stroke, and kidney disease.    Treatment is usually done through maintaining a healthy diet, not smoking, as well as medications such as those that control cholesterol and high blood pressure.    Atherosclerosis was first described in 1575 but there's evidence that it existed as far back as five thousand years ago</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Let me know what you thought :=)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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